Frozen Blades
by rjcolo
Summary: The kingdom of Arendelle has seen nothing but prosperity a year after the Great Thaw. This sudden growth and rumors of the queen's powers have attracted the attention of two powerful factions that have been waging a secret war for hundreds of years. With this war crossing Arendelle's borders, Elsa must decide whether to rule through freedom or control.
1. Chapter I: A Stranger In Strange Lands

**Here's my first fanfic. I've spent a lot of time on this, but I have to give a HUGE shout-out to R. Jeannettte for being my beta. Thank you for being so patient and waiting for me to _finally_ getting this on here. Without further ado, here's _Frozen Blades_!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen (which belongs to Disney) or Assassin's Creed (which belongs to Ubisoft). If I did, I would've probably turned this story into an actual game. **

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_Thump, thump, thump! _ Three loud thuds on the cabin door pulled Patrick O'Hare out of his deep slumber.

"Sir, are you awake?" asked the disturber of his sleep from beyond the door.

"I am now," Patrick replied curtly whilst his temper began rising, "Why?" _Are pirates attacking us?_ Judging by the lack of paranoia from the deck, he assumed that wasn't the case. _Why in God's name would I be awoken then?_

"We've arrived sir," the sailor deadpanned. _We've finally made it?_

"Oh, great! I'm just writhing with joy," Patrick sarcastically chided. He didn't want to be sent to this place as his first solo assignment. Reestablishing the brotherhood anywhere else would be a challenge, but the assignment had the potential to be too damned easy. A backwater fishing "kingdom" in the middle-of-nowhere-Norway was not where Patrick expected himself to be. When he heard he was being sent off into the world to spread the Assassin's influence, he couldn't contain his enthusiasm. However, the order all too quickly drained it all out of Patrick when he was told he'd be sent to _Arendelle_, of all places. Patrick had never heard of Arendelle in the first place. Even the courier who delivered the message had to admit that he had heard nothing about it until recently. But nonetheless, there was a newly crowned queen and the kingdom was growing in power, sparking the order's interest. Although he appreciated the order's faith in his abilities, Patrick was still offended when he had been asked to try to persuade some impressionable queen of the Assassin's "goodness." _Maybe I should just convince the people to revolt and set up a democracy similar to my homeland._ Unfortunately, that would go against the very purpose of his order. Asking the citizens to follow his beliefs and orders would make Patrick akin to the very people he had chosen to fight against.

"Are you still awake sir," asked the sailor in the same monotonous voice. Patrick never cared much for the sailors and they had always returned the sentiment.

"Yes," Patrick moaned trying to pull himself out of sleep.

"Be ready soon. We'll be docking shortly," the sailor warned. With that last warning, Patrick heard the sailor trod off to some duty of docking the ship. It had been a long trip that had tested his patience time and time again.

Getting out of his cot, Patrick dragged his feet to the chest containing his clothes. First, he donned his white shirt. Patrick had read that summers were always warm and fresh in Arendelle, so he opted out of any accessories provided for him. He was never much for looking well dressed anyway. Next came his dark brown trousers and a pair of knee high boots of a light, leather material. Even amongst the trees of the wilderness, these boots were very optimal for climbing. After lacing and buckling his light boots, Patrick threw on his Assassin coat: a navy blue long coat, adorned with red and white trim. Patrick opted not to don the signature hood over his head so he could be more easily recognizable by his contact and not be so noticeable by any possible Templars in the area.

He then went on with his weapons. First were his Colt revolver pistols. He possessed two of these firearms that flanked his hips. He wore them in a fashion that enabled him to "quick draw" making him feel like a bandito from the Wild West. He added his guns fully loaded and ready to fire with the simple pull of the trigger.

Then came Patrick's trusty sword: a French sabre that he kept in pristine condition. He pulled the curved beauty from its sheath, the sound of the drawing metal sending shivers of delight down his spine. The weapon just felt right, like an extension of his hand; a long, deadly sharp extension. The blade glistened radiantly even in the darkness of his quarters. The basket hilt was bright silver with an intertwined design as a cage-like protection for his hand. He received the sword as a gift from a blacksmith local to the Assassin's headquarters in New England. Patrick returned his beloved to its sheath and fastened it to his belt.

After including the necessary weapons (throwing knives, rope darts, smoke bombs) and pouches of other tools of the Assassin trade, Patrick grabbed the only two things that he cherished more than his lovely sword: the hidden blades. The signature weapons of his order, the hidden blades were the perfect instruments to take out the unwary victim. They were simple, yet beautifully lethal for those who know how to use them. The Assassins had been using these weapons for thousands of years to fight the Templars. Some assassins wore only one on the left wrist, while others, like Patrick, wore two. As he attached the bladed bracers to his wrists underneath his coat sleeves, a grand sense of pride overwhelmed Patrick. He did not earn the right to wear the weapons easily and putting them on always reminded him of his journey to where he is now. From his humble beginnings of being saved from the life of a street rat to becoming a deadly killer, fighting an ancient war. He had been so thrilled at the prospect of participating in the Mexican War that had been declared back in April. Alas, he was sent to this fishing village called Arendelle instead.

_Arendelle_. He practically knew the accursed place like the back of his hand at this point. Patrick probably knew more about the kingdom's history than this blasted queen herself. The order made sure of that. It was also made sure Patrick knew the culture, the customs, the history, the myths and fantasies they told of trolls and magic. He studied the Norwegian language (not a simple task) enough in order to have a basic understanding of the language. He was almost a native of the kingdom at this point. All he needed was a place of residence.

"A year of studying and practicing and testing and for what – to spend my time in this quiet little fishing village to woo and please a damned monarch? It's 1846 for Christ's sake! Why the rest of the world hasn't jumped on the bandwagon of democracy is beyond me," he expressed with great bitterness. The outburst made his blood boil. How could the order, an organization that practically saved his life, _betray_ him to do this horrendous task? It was all a waste of time in Patrick's opinion, an opinion that apparently didn't matter to the brotherhood. If his mentor, the great Connor Kenway, were still alive, he would probably still be home right now. It had been three years since his passing and Patrick was still coping with the loss. The man had been a father to Patrick, and if it weren't for Connor, he might be dead. Orders are orders though, and he hoped he could at least swallow his pride long enough to endure this assignment. _This painful, dreadful, God awful…_

"Mr. O'Hare?" a voice with a knock sounded, dragging Patrick from his tirade. He was surprised; the voice was different from the previous one. It was a light-hearted and Irish, the captain's if Patrick was not mistaken

"Yes?"

"We're approaching the docks and will be dropping anchor momentarily," the captain's voice replied kindly. Hearing a fellow Irishman voice always brought a small hint of delight to Patrick's heart. He didn't have an accent, but his grandfather's father was an immigrant when the first potato famine plagued the Emerald Isle and he is damned proud to be an Irishman as much as being American.

"I'll be out briefly," Patrick answered. _So this is it._ He gave one final look at himself in a full-length mirror before him. He looked up and noticed the heavy sags of fatigue underneath his pale blue eyes, his brown hair and beard a wild, overgrown mess. _That'll have to be fixed soon, if I am to impress a queen,_ he thought, getting all the more upset at his duty now.

He approached the door of his cabin and, with a deep breath, walked out onto the deck. The sun shined bright in Patrick's eyes. He had to wait for them to adjust for a moment, but when they did, he let out a gasp, air escaping his lungs.

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**What do you think? Please review and, if you want to read more, fav and follow as well. As for updates, they will be fairly inconsistent due to a busy summer and being away from my laptop for most of it. I'll put out the second chapter some time later today and possibly the third and fourth tomorrow. Have a lovely day.**

**-rjcolo**


	2. Chapter II: Worth a Million

**Here's chapter two. Since I'll be away from my laptop from the 17th to the 21st, I'm going to try uploading as many chapters as I can. Shout out to Shashenka for the fav, follow and review. And I have to give a shout out to R. Jeanette again for my being my beta reader. Seriously, I really appreciate it.**

**Have fun.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen or Assassin's Creed.**

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The orients of the Far East have said that a picture is worth a thousand words. Patrick could say the sight before him was worth millions. The kingdom of Arendelle was unbelievably beautiful. The wilderness was filled with lush green hills, tall trees, and vast cliffs with cascading waterfalls surrounding the entire village, a pristine visage of nature harmonizing with man. Ahead of the ship, the village was bright and happy. Humble stone buildings were graced with green rooftops packed tightly together, becoming more scattered the farther inland and up the hills they went. Above the village, mountains rose to collectively become a giant, snow-topped crown that shined brightly in the morning summer sun, only adding to the regality of the land.

What really captured Patrick's eyes though, was the castle to the left. The structure, obviously the largest in town, was the first thing that was introduced to all incoming ships that sailed through, around or by the fjord. However, unlike the greened roofs that topped the other buildings in town, the castle's roofs were adorned with a brilliant, icy blue that sparkled bright under the summer sun. For a moment Patrick truly believed they were made of ice. Atop the highest point of the structure stood what looked to be a snowflake of an exquisite and delicate pattern. Whoever was the artist that created the magnificent wonder had instantly earned Patrick's respect.

"Beautiful, ain't it?" the captain asked with a happy sigh, interrupting Patrick's reverie.

"Like out of a goddamned fairytale," Patrick mumbled, still staring in awe. The sight seemed to calm and cheer even the hardest of men. Some of the saltier sailors on the ship couldn't help but give a small smile to the fjord's splendor. As they approached the docks, the sound of life and bustling noise danced into Patrick's ears. He shifted his gaze towards the source. The village was all in an organized commotion with the business of loading and unloading ships, merchants trading foreign goods, families enjoying the incredibly gorgeous day. The scene melted the once frozen demeanor of his heart. It was no Boston, but it sounded a lot like it. _Looks and smells better than Boston harbor, that's for sure_, he thought, inhaling the aroma of fresh, crisp mountain air combined with the watery mix of both fresh rivers and salty oceans, and the pines that blew in the soft, cool wind.

The small merchant ship soon dropped anchor and Patrick rushed back into his sleeping quarters to retrieve the rest of his belongings: a chest with some spare clothes (in case he had to forgo his coat), a large purse filled with some money, and parchment with ink. Soon after, Patrick approached the captain and thanked him for the hospitality during the long journey.

"You're always welcome back on the _Aquila_ me boy," he joyfully offered.

"You'll be the first I contact friend," Patrick told him as the two men shook each hands making a gentlemen's agreement out of the elder's statement.

"I'll hold you to it," he smiled, sealing the deal. Patrick snorted, smirked at the captain's little quip and departed. Landing on the unmoving wood was hard on his legs at first. The former naval warship made a quick stop at Lisbon to rest the sea-weary travelers, but they soon pushed straight to Arendelle. All in all, the trip took about three months for Patrick to finally arrive at the Norwegian village.

He soon adjusted to dry land though and breathed a sigh of relief, nausea leaving his stomach. As Patrick walked into the cobblestoned plaza, his eyes scanned looking for anyone that could be his host. Suddenly, a tap on his shoulder turned him around. A lanky, middle-aged man, about as tall as Patrick with shaggy dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, stood before the assassin. Patrick read somewhere that such physicalities were typical of the people of Norway. He wore a white shirt, brown pants with black shoes: simple commoner's clothing.

"You must be Patrick O'Hare," he exclaimed with a warm smile and an obvious accent Patrick struggled not to giggle at. His English was not the best but at least he tried. _Maybe learning Norwegian was a bigger waste of my time than I thought._ The Norseman must've received a forewarning about his appearance, or the signature robes of the brotherhood in order for him to recognize Patrick. Patrick shrugged the thought away quickly and introduced himself.

"That I am. I trust that you be my host?" Patrick asked back in Norwegian. He extended his hand, waiting for the Norseman to return with a shake. The man became surprised at Patrick's fluency of his native tongue.

"Erik Arneson, at your service Mr. O'Hare," he proclaimed (in Norwegian this time) and shook Patrick's hand violently out of nervous excitement. "Shall we be off to your place of stay, my inn to be exact, Mr. O'Hare?" Erik asked.

"Absolutely, and please, call me Patrick," he told the man. Patrick was never one for being addressed in formalities. He was no different from the people around him.

"Okay, off we go," said the goofy Norseman as he grabbed Patrick's chest. He struggled to lift it at first. When Patrick tried to help, Erik waved him off and profusely claimed he had a hold of it. Patrick was still unconvinced, but the assassin let the Norseman do as he wished all the same. When Erik finally got a steady and secure hold of the chest, he led Patrick through the town.

"Your Norwegian is almost impeccable, but your accent is still distinct," Erik, piped up after a short lull, "where do you hail from, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I actually come from America," Patrick answered proudly, "a small bayside settlement in Massachusetts. The residents like to call it the Davenport Homestead." It had been easy to call the township his home. It had been the Assassin's headquarters in America since the Colonial period, and had been returned to its original use after the deeds of Connor restored the order's influence back to the western hemisphere. The townsfolk were so pleasant and caring for Patrick after he was taken in under Connor's wing. They all became a big, happy family alongside his fellow assassins in the fourteen years he spent there. Leaving them behind for what might be forever was the hardest thing Patrick had to do.

"Really?" Erik asked curiously, "Do all people in America talk like you?"

"Not all," Patrick chuckled, "There are many people from around the world that come to America to seek opportunity and fortune. Then there's the Southerners, but don't get me started on them." He had a strong distaste for anyone who would raise his flag for a cause as asinine as slavery.

"Then what brings you to Arendelle, if you don't mind me asking?" Erik pried. His questions were starting to arouse the assassin's suspicions, but Patrick's training has taught him to always be wary of those who introduce themselves first.

"Business I do not wish to go into detail about," he deadpanned, setting his eyes on the path instead of at his companion.

"Okay," he replied. Erik seemed like a simple enough man to just not ask questions and look the other way when Patrick needed him to. _Seems I've already made a perfectly unsuspecting confidant here in Arendelle_.

After another few moments of silent walking, Erik said, "We're here."

Patrick read the sign of Erik's inn out loud, "_The Snowman's Cot_." He pondered a moment. "Doesn't sound like an inviting name," he quibbled, trying not to sound offensive.

"I know, but I was inspired by one of the more well known residents of this fine kingdom," Erik grinned.

"Really?" Patrick asked inquisitively, "I shall have to meet this man if he's alive. What's his name?"

"Olaf! And he is indeed very alive," Erik quickly answered, happy to inform his newfound companion of such an honorable man.

"Olaf what?" Patrick questioned. Usually Norwegian surnames were either patronymic or matronymic. To hear only a first name made him wonder who this Olaf character was.

"Interesting question," Erik said. He mused for a moment. "I guess since he was created by the queen, he would be Olaf Elsason."

"So he's a bastard?" Patrick asked, interested to know that this queen had already gotten into some trouble within her first year, if not before her crowning.

"Well, no. He's not a bastard. He technically doesn't have a father…" Erik trailed off, choosing his next words carefully. "It's a bit complicated. I'll have to explain it to you later. I have to warn you to keep an open mind though." _What could be so odd about this Olaf fellow? _Patrick thought, raising his eyebrow at Erik with more puzzlement written on his face. They walked into the nearly empty inn, unawares of a very important group on their way to indulge in the business's humble cuisine.

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**So what do you think? Don't worry, you'll be seeing our lovable Frozen characters soon enough. Leave a review and fav and follow if you want to read more. If you have any questions, feel free to leave it in the review section or PM me.**

**Thanks for reading. :)**

**-rjcolo**


	3. Chapter III: Duties of a Queenly Sister

**Here's chapter 3! Thanks so much for all of your reviews. Thanks again to R. Jeanette for being my beta reader. I feel it's appropriate to credit you in every chapter you've helped me with.**

**As always, have fun.**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Frozen or Assassin's Creed.**

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Her eyes fluttered open in irritation when the first rays of the sun tickled her face. It was dawn and she had decided to rise early to begin her usual royal duties. After sitting up, stretching, and yawning in a loud, unqueenly fashion, Elsa slid out of bed and put on a silk robe over her nightgown. She silently opened her door and sneaked to the castle kitchen so as to not disturb anyone still in peaceful slumber. The servants and maids had already begun their daily duties in the kitchen, and were not the least bit surprised by their queen's early entrance. Elsa was an early riser, after all.

After eating a delectable meal of fresh fruits, eggs, pastries, and tea, she retreated back to her room to freshen up, change into more presentable attire, and begin another day as Queen of Arendelle. Even after a year of sitting on the throne, she still could not get used to calling herself by that title. She sometimes wondered if she ever would.

Her wardrobe of choice for the day was a sky-blue summer dress with darker blue trim, sleeves that stopped just before her elbows, and a square neckline. She had no difficulty putting on the dress herself, being used to doing it on her own for thirteen years. She decided to tie up her hair into the same singular, loose braid she adopted a year ago, draping it over her left shoulder and pushing her bangs back.

As Elsa inspected the outfit, her eyes drifted from the mirror to the window. It was going to be a glorious, summer day in Arendelle. She heavily sighed with disappointment, knowing her duties would keep her confined in the castle, instead of out enjoying the fresh, crisp air of the fjord. Knowing her sister, Anna would be out in the city with possibly Kristoff, her courter, Sven, Kristoff's pet reindeer, and Olaf, the adorable snowman Elsa had created soon after her coronation fiasco.

That fateful event had been a little over a year ago. The day she plummeted all of Arendelle into an eternal winter, and then pulled it back out after a few short days. The kingdom recovered surprisingly well from Elsa's incident and her powers had become much easier to contain and use, although she did lose control from time to time when she got irritable and stressed by her work or advisors. _Such is the life of the Snow Queen, I guess, _she thought, still longing to be outside to enjoy summer. She was about to get started on her work in the office adjacent to her bedchamber, when a gentle knocking rhythm rang from the door to her chambers. Upon hearing them, Elsa knew exactly to whom those knocks belonged.

"Come in, Anna," she called out. Elsa turned around to greet her beautiful sister with a smile. She was wearing a grayish-green blouse with sleeves that reached just past her elbows. A much greener, sleeveless dress was draped on top of her blouse. The dress had traditional Norwegian embroidery of leaves and flowers on its bosom. Her strawberry-blonde hair had been braided in her signature two long plaits that flanked her face. Elsa looked up to her bright teal eyes, shining with innocence and warmth as Anna greeted her older sister with a wide, excited, yet nervous smile. As Elsa stared at her sister, she realized it was unusually early for her sister to be awake, much less dressed and groomed.

"What are you doing up so early?" Elsa asked, furrowing her brow.

"Oh, I don't know," she smirked, looking at her feet like a child hiding a secret.

"Anna," Elsa chastised, knowing she was hiding something.

"Okay, I got up early because I wanted to ask you to come into town with Kristoff, Olaf, and I today. I know you haven't visited for a while and I think it'd be cool if the people got a surprise visit from you and you need the break, I think. I just want to see you loosen up and we haven't spent some time with each other for a while and I…"

"Whoa, slow down Anna," Elsa calmly interjected to keep her sister from rambling. Anna blushed in embarrassment, defining the many freckles on her nose and cheeks. Elsa looked at her and thought of what she said. It had been a few months since she greeted the commoners, and that was for the Fastelavn festival. It had been a merry night of food, dance, and drink but was too crazy for any quality bonding time. Although this visit would not pertain to much partying, it might be good for her. She also didn't have much work to do today, which was a plus.

"I'm not sure if I can, Anna," she finally said, regret heavy in her voice. Although every fiber of her being wanted to, Elsa's duties as queen came first; even before being a sister sometimes.

"Oh come on Elsa! You need a break!" her sister exclaimed. "You've been inside the castle for far too long! Come get some fresh air. It'll help you live longer, and I promise you, the first thing we'll do is get some _chocolate_!" At the mention of chocolate, her eyes lit up with joy. Elsa's mouth began to water by the time the final word escaped Anna's lips.

"I don't know," she teased, seeing how far Anna would go to convince her to leave the castle.

"Pleeeeeeaaase!" the youngest sister begged, as she folded her fingers into prayer's fist, not catching on to Elsa's wiliness. A desperate cry for Elsa's companionship appeared in her ever-expressive eyes. If there was one thing Anna couldn't do, it was keep her composure. She couldn't put on a mask to fool everyone into thinking she was feeling something different than what she so obviously expressed. It made her a more genuine of person. Elsa, on the other hand, had far too much practice with such a skill – and she was about to put it to use.

"I just don't think I can put this off." Elsa let out an exaggerated sigh, faced her desk, and tried to look busy with organizing her papers, a playful smirk slowly crawling onto her face. Suddenly, one of Anna's delicate hands appeared in Elsa's view and snatched the papers out of her grasp. Elsa's head snapped up hurriedly, only to see Anna's heels disappear through the queen's office door.

"Anna!" Elsa yelled, immediately annoyed by her sister's impulsiveness. _If she looses or ruins even one of those papers, _she thought, infuriation quickly coursing through her veins. She rushed out of her room and hunted her sister among the large halls of the castle, the temperature quickly dropping. As she searched for Anna, she saw a small cloud of flurrying snow suddenly float towards her.

"Good morning, Elsa!" Olaf jovially greeted with wide beady eyes and an even wider grin.

"Good morning Olaf," the queen greeted back down to the snowman of her creation, unable to keep away a small smile. Her mood and the temperature began to slowly rise from their former coldness. He always had that affect on people. As soon as he walked into a room, everyone would just start smiling.

"How are you this fantastic morning?" he asked.

"Well, Anna asked me to go into the city with you, her and Kristoff," Elsa answered, "but when I said I couldn't, she grabbed all of my official papers and documents needed for today's work and ran off. Which reminds me, have you seen her?"

"No," he said but quickly changed the subject, "But you should definitely come with us today. It'll be so great to have all of us out in the city!" This time, she couldn't bring herself to say no. The happy look on Olaf's face was too precious, and she didn't want to be the one to melt it away.

"Very well," she sighed in defeat, "but only if you help me find my papers."

"Hooray!" the snowman cried in excitement. "Let's go find Anna!" With that, he decided to help Elsa find her mischievous sister, who still had the official documents. Olaf's presence calmed Elsa enough to bring temperatures to a more comfortable state, but she was still aggravated by her sister's immaturity. _God knows where she is or if she still has them_, the queen wondered as they checked every room they came across. Elsa hoped Anna didn't conceal them around the castle. She knew Anna would immediately forget where they were hidden when questioned. After a few minutes of fruitless searching and Olaf calling Anna's name, Elsa suddenly bumped into a large, barreled chest.

"Oof, sorry. Oh, Elsa! I'm so sorry!" Kristoff profusely apologized for bumping into the queen. Although he and Anna have been seeing each other for a year now, he was still afraid to set off Elsa in the slightest. She wasn't sure if it was because she would ban her sister from seeing him, or because he knew she could instantly turn him into a smelly hunk of ice.

"Don't worry about it, Kristoff," Elsa assured him. His carefulness when he was around her was amiable and only comforted Elsa, knowing that Anna had found such a careful and protective man. Speaking of...

"Have you seen Anna anywhere?"

"I haven't, why?" he asked, puzzled.

"She asked me to come into the city with her today. When I said I couldn't, she grabbed some important documents of mine and ran off."

"Oh, well, you should definitely come," he said nervously, adding more pressure on the queen to leave the castle, "I'd think she'd really love it if you did." Elsa couldn't help but smile at his statement of endearment for her sister.

"I was planning on it, but not until I get my papers back." Suddenly, two lithe, freckled arms wrapped around Kristoff from behind. He only stumbled, being far too large for Anna to tackle. In her right hand were some official looking papers. Stealing her chance, Elsa swiftly grabbed the papers from Anna's grasp.

"Hey!" she proclaimed and gave a pout from behind her lover.

"_Now_ I will go into town with you three," Elsa calmly said with a victorious smirk on her face. She checked the papers to make sure that she had indeed obtained all of them and if they were in pristine condition. Luckily, she couldn't find any problems.

"Wait, you will?" Anna eagerly asked with a look of joyous surprise on her face, retreating from behind Kristoff to face her sister.

"Of course I will. You're right, Anna. I really do deserve a break today. Just let me return these papers to my desk and then we can be on our way."

"Yay!" Anna shouted and then wrapped her arms around her sister in a loving embrace. Elsa willingly returned the hug. She never got tired of moments like these with Anna. There was never a day they didn't grow closer as sisters, and it filled the queen with hope and a sense of freedom every time something like this occurred.

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**Whadaya think? I can honestly say it is a little more difficult to get the Frozen characters just right, especially Elsa. She didn't have much screen time as the other characters, making her personality not as fleshed out. While this can give freedom for writers to build the rest of her character, it's tough not to stray too far.**

**As usual, let me know what you think with a review and fav or follow the story if you want it to keep going. Any questions or suggestions can be left in the reviews or in a PM to your's truly.**

**-rjcolo**


	4. Chapter IV: Guiltless Pleasures

**Chapter 4. I hope you guys like this one, especially the way I wrote Elsa. Thanks to R. Jeanette again. You're input has definitely helped the story and me personally as a writer.**

**As always, have fun.**

**Disclaimer: I tried contacting Disney and Ubisoft for property rights to Frozen and Assassin's Creed, but I haven't heard back from them. So alas, I still don't any unoriginal characters, just the ones I create.**

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"Come on, Elsa!" Anna cried, dragging Elsa behind her to a chocolatier on the edge of the plaza. They had only been in the town square for a few minutes before the royal sisters made a beeline to the quaint, humble shop. Elsa couldn't keep the smile off her face. The entire town had been bustling; ships were being docked and unloaded, merchants were selling their foreign wares to natives and visitors alike, and children were playing and enjoying the refreshing summer air.

It gave her a glimmer of pride when she saw how well the city had rebounded and even thrived after "The Great Thaw" as everyone called it. What surprised Elsa even more was the warm reception her people had given her. At first, there was some resentment of her presence upon Arendelle's throne. Elsa didn't, couldn't, blame them. She nearly destroyed the kingdom and many lives because she couldn't get a hold of her emotions. But as the ice of the true winter melted, spring came around with nothing but prosperity, the people _rejoiced_!

As soon as some citizens began recognizing Elsa, all eyes were on the royal sisters. Some mothers asked the queen to bless their new or unborn children; others simply extended a kind "Hello" or "Have a wonderful day today, your majesty." These visits always made her so happy, seeing the warm faces of her subjects smiling gleefully at her. There were always people who would disapprove of Elsa being queen, but it was a burden she would have to bear. At least there haven't been any attempts on her life.

Yet.

They came to an abrupt halt in front of the shop, the aroma of chocolate mocking Elsa's nose and tempting her to step into its sweet, warm, heavenly embrace. After Anna inhaled deeply she couldn't hold back her excitement. "Let's go in!"

They burst through the shop's door like excited young girls they had hardly ever gotten to be. Only this time, the sisters didn't have their parents or any of the royal maids to tell them what they could or couldn't eat. The thought of this made Elsa giggle uncontrollably and Anna couldn't help but join in with her sister's youthful outburst.

"I'll be with you in a minute!" a sweet, older voice sounded from the back room. Elsa regained her poise to appear more collected. Anna, as impatient as ever, began to bop up and down on the balls of her feet, sporting a grin that stretched across her adorable face.

Soon after, the master chocolatier appeared from the back room, only to have a look of complete disbelief appear in her wide eyes.

"Your majesty," the old lady sweetly said after a moment of awkward silence and staring. "I-I would never have expected you to visit my shop," she stuttered.

"Well if there is one weakness I possess, it is most definitely chocolate," she kidded.

"So is that the key to your heart?" a smooth voice asked from the left of her. Anna and Elsa both jumped at the sound of a new voice to see whom it belonged to. Elsa was all the more happy to find the owner.

Sitting on a simple wooden chair was a dashingly handsome man, with short, shining black hair that was groomed quite well. His face was a contrast to his thick head of hair; not a single stubble or strand could be found upon it, exposing his strong, square jawline. His eyes were a milky brown, much like the chocolates of the shop. He wore a dark blue coat with a white shirt underneath that seemed to only broaden his large shoulders. His legs were covered with blue trousers to match his coat, and brown knee high riding boots. In his belt was a short sword and a firearm of some sort. Although the sight of the weapons made Elsa a little wary, one look into his comforting eyes made her forget about everything else in the world. They held eye contact for a while, her smiling dreamily, him smirking back mischievously like he had a secret to tell.

"Elsa?" Anna said, somehow nearly pulling Elsa out of her trance, "Are you okay?"

"I'm just perfect," the queen sighed merrily. Only when the gallant wonder of a man stood up, was she snapped abruptly out of his hypnosis. Elsa looked up and realized he was considerably taller than both her and Anna – possibly as big as Kristoff.

"Pardon my rude interruption milady," he began with a sheepish grin, "but I couldn't help but notice you as soon as you walked in. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Carter Bingham." There was something in his accent that was very foreign to Elsa. She could not for the life of her fathom where it was from, though.

"Your voice is quite – exotic," she blurted out. "Where are you from?"

"I hail from the United States, my dear. South Carolina to be precise." His accent was just marvelous to her. It was soft and kind, but also strong and moving.

"I'm Elsa," she said, extending a hand in greeting. Carter gently took Elsa's hand within one of his and, bending over with gentlemanly grace, landed a soft kiss. Elsa giggled at the gesture, never taking her eyes off of his all the while. She suddenly noticed how flustered she had become and how hot her cheeks felt when Anna gave her a nudge and a stifled giggle.

"I'm Anna, her sister," she said extending her hand for a shake. Unsurprisingly, Carter did the same to Anna what he did to Elsa. She didn't receive the gesture with as much enthusiasm, but she was still very appreciative of the etiquette all the same.

"Well now that we have introductions out of the way, may I interest you ladies in any of these chocolates the master here has to offer?" he said gesturing towards the chocolatier woman, who also now became smitten by the insurmountable politeness of the man.

"What do you mean?" a confused Anna asked.

"I mean decide what you would like and I will pay for it in full," Carter answered with a reassuring smile on his face, keeping his eyes on the queen when he answered.

"Oh no, we can't ask you to do that," Elsa objected. Although she was flattered by the act, she did not want to seem like she was taking advantage. She was the Queen of Arendelle, after all.

"And I can't take no for an answer, your majesty," he flirtatiously retorted. Elsa looked in his eyes and saw playful determination shine back at her.

"Very well, Mr. Bingham," she said, knowing there was no reason in fighting him. Free chocolate is, after all, free chocolate.

"Splendid! What would you ladies like today?"

With the question, the royal sisters both browsed the menu to figure exactly what they desired. After pondering and talking with each other for a while, Anna decided to go with frozen chocolate cream while Elsa went with a warm, chocolate filled pastry. After a few minutes of waiting, the chocolatier came back with treats that put eager smiles on the sisters' faces. Carter paid the lady for the food and tipped her handsomely for her work. He then looked at the sisters with an air of confidence Elsa could not get over. She smiled back shyly as they headed out the door, Carter holding it open for them.

When the trio came out of the shop, they saw Kristoff and Olaf immediately run up to them. Kristoff brought Anna into a big embrace.

"We lost you guys for a while there," he sighed in relief.

"Not to worry, my good man," Carter stepped in, "I made sure they were in capable hands."

"Thanks?" Kristoff hesitantly asked.

"Mr. Bingham here was kind enough to pay for our treats," she said, wishing to praise the wonderful man.

"It wasn't a big fuss. I was only being a Southern gentleman, is all," he said, "and please your majesty, call me Carter."

"Very well," Elsa said. Then with a flirtatious smirk, she added, "Only if you call me Elsa."

"Very well, Elsa," he countered with a wink. The way her name sounded in his voice was just riveting to Elsa. She bit her bottom lip at his comment.

"Now what should we do?" Anna asked still in Kristoff's arms. It wasn't even midday. There was so much they could do. Elsa's first thought was to show Carter the rest of the town, if he had yet to explore it for himself.

"I say we give Carter a tour of the town," she suggested, "if you haven't seen it all yet," she added towards him, just so she wouldn't embarrass herself.

"I would love to have the Queen of Arendelle give me a personal tour of her own kingdom!" he exclaimed while sticking his elbow at the queen. She graciously wrapped her thin arms around his much larger one. _I could get used to this_, Elsa thought, suddenly blushing again.

"I like it," Anna agreed, taking Kristoff's arm with her own, "Where should we go first?"

It was Olaf's turn to say something.

"I know! Let's go to the cot!" Olaf was referring to _The Snowman's Cot_, a small inn recently established by a former farmer.

"Sure thing," Elsa said, "I haven't seen Erik in a while actually."

"_The Snowman's Cot_ it is then," Carter chimed in. Anna and Kristoff nodded in agreement and soon they were off to the cozy inn. With uncontainable excitement, Olaf ran far ahead of the two couples, proud to show off his mark on Arendelle.

"Shouldn't we keep up with him?" Carter asked Elsa.

"He's fine," she said, "And besides, you have the Queen of Arendelle as your tour guide."

"Well then I place all my trust in you, Elsa" Carter said with a genuine smile.

_I could definitely get used to this_.

* * *

**Ooh, a love interest. What do you guys think of Carter? Is he an Assassin or a Templar? Let me know what you think in the review section and fav and/or follow if you want to read more. Again, questions can go in either the review section or through a PM to me.**

**-rjcolo**


	5. Chapter V: Home Sweet Home - For Now

**And here's chapter five! This is a semi-filler chapter but one I find necessary as it adds a couple more key characters for the story.**

**I have gotten a new beta however, so I'd like xXNorwegianAssassinXx for your time in checking my writing.**

**As always, have fun.**

**Disclaimer: STILL don't own either AC or Frozen. But hey, a guy can dream, right?**

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Patrick entered the inn behind Erik and was pleasantly surprised at what he saw. The downstairs tavern looked much larger than the impression given by the building's outer appearance. There were roughly over a dozen round tables with four chairs surrounding each of them and a fireplace with a clearing in front of it, no doubt for any musician that wished to entertain patrons with song. The bar wasn't too large, only a couple of ale and wine barrels decorating the wall behind it. He assumed the harsher liquors were hidden beneath the counter. There were about ten stools facing Erik and Patrick, welcoming anyone who wished to come and drink as soon as they walked through the door.

_A drink would be wonderful right about now_, Patrick thought as a wave of weariness crashed over him. The tavern wasn't uncomfortably warm – quite pleasant in fact. The long sailing trip from America had really ached his bones and a warm bed with some cold beer or whiskey in his belly could bring him into a blissful hibernation at this point. Patrick became all the more grateful for Erik's generosity in carrying his luggage.

"Mary! Lizzie! I'm home!" Erik called, jolting the assassin into a more wakeful state. _I must've been drifting to sleep_. Blinking the fatigue out of his eyes, Patrick was greeted by two lovely women coming from a back door he assumed to be the kitchen. The first was much shorter than either him or Erik. She was thin and wore a jolly smile on her round face. Her straight hair was brown with streaks of silver running through. She came up to Erik, embracing him and pecking his lips, smiling at the man. He could only assume she's Erik's wife.

"Hello, my dear," Erik greeted.

"Hello, husband," the lady replied in a thick Irish accent; Patrick was surprised at this revelation. She then took notice of the newcomer and her face lit up in an instant. "And who might this strapping young man be?"

"Patrick O'Hare, at your service," Patrick introduced, extending a hand.

"Mary Arneson, at yours," she took hold with a gentle shake. Patrick looked into her pale green eyes, taking note of the freckles adorning her face.

He then noticed the young lass who quietly made her way behind the couple. She seemed to be in the later stages of her adolescent years, probably old enough to begin courting. Her body was lithe and lengthy; her hair was long, shiny and light brown. Her figure was becoming womanlier; she must've been the talk of the town amongst the boys. He smiled at her and she shyly smiled back, a faint blush painting her dainty nose and cheekbones. Her large, round eyes were a much deeper green than her mother's. Her long eyelashes only magnified the already radiant emerald orbs.

"Don't be shy, dear," Mary suddenly urged her towards Patrick. "Introduce yourself," her blushed amplified at Mary's encouragement, defining the freckles splashed across her face. Patrick stuck out his hand kindly.

"Patrick O'Hare."

"I'm Elizabeth Eriksdotter," she replied, taking his hand with her unsteady one.

"A pleasure to meet you, Elizabeth," he said, making her all the more red. Her face seemed it could explode at any minute from the flattery and embarrassment.

"Well, now that we have introductions out of the way, would you like to be shown to your room?" Mary asked.

"I would love nothing more right now," Patrick smiled at her.

"Very well. Erik will take you to your quarters while Lizzie and I prepare you some Irish stew."

Patrick couldn't help but perk up. He had not eaten a good bowl of that since he was a little lad. I'll be sure to test some of Mary's recipes during my stay here, he dreamed, licking his lips at the images of homemade Irish cuisine placed before him. "I look forward to it."

Patrick followed Erik up the stairs to his room soon after. It was at the end of the hall, which was perfect for him. The fewer neighbors that asked questions, the better. Erik set down the chest and unlocked the door, stepping aside to let Patrick examine his home for the next couple of months. It was small and cozy. The bed was flanked with a nightstand on the right and a desk and chair parallel to the opposite wall on the left. Candles sat on top of both pieces of furniture. Above the desk was a window that looked out over the fjord, towards the castle. It was large enough to illuminate the room during the day and possibly even large enough for him to exit when he didn't want to disturb anyone. Across from the bed, on the other side, was a simple armoire for him to hang clothing. There was enough space on the right side to hold his chest, where he would probably be storing all of his weapons. He looked at the floor and noticed a simple green and purple rug. _A little something to add color, I guess_.

"Where do you want this?" Erik asked, dragging Patrick's chest from behind.

"Next to the armoire, please," Patrick answered politely. After placing the chest in Patrick's desired spot, Erik turned to the assassin with his toothy grin.

"What do you think?"

"Quite comfortable."

"Well, it's not the biggest but we tried to accommodate you as best we could."

"It's perfect, Erik," Patrick reassured him with a hand on the innkeeper's shoulder and a genuine smile.

"Thank you, Mr. O'Hare," the modest Norseman reddened. "Shall I send someone up once your meal is ready?"

"No need for that," Patrick groaned while he stretched his entire body upward to loosen up any tight muscles. "I'd actually like a mug of ale, if you don't mind."

"Of course, Mr. O'Hare!" Erik exclaimed. He dashed off before Patrick could say anything else.

"For the last time, Erik," he called after the eager innkeeper, "Just call me Patrick."

He quickly opened his chest and placed most of his weapons, save for the hidden blades, inside. He anticipated that he wouldn't need them for the rest of the day; that and he could handle himself with just his fists and blades if it came to such a situation. He hung his coat in the armoire to prevent any more sweating on this surprisingly hot day. Patrick headed down the hall past the other rooms and descended the stairs.

He looked out through the tavern and noticed a couple had found themselves a table. Elizabeth was brightly serving them with her lovely smile and then an even lovelier laugh at a joke on of the customers made. _The boy that'll steal her heart is going to be lucky_. He simply smiled and continued to his desired destination.

He arrived at the base of the stairs and made his way to the bar on the left, settling on the stool closest to Erik. There were three more men on the other side of the bar who immediately eyed Patrick at his entrance. Patrick ignored their stares and faced the bartender. A mug of ale was immediately thrust into his face. Patrick smiled and placed some coin on the bar top for payment.

"Oh, no need for that, Mr. O'Hare," Erik said pushing the money back in his direction. "Your associates already paid me handsomely enough for providing lodging for you. It was enough for me to buy a year's supply of ale."

"I insist, though," Patrick replied. Erik was giving him a place to stay. The least Patrick could do was pay for some luxuries, and drinks were a luxury for which he could spare a few coins.

"And I am insisting as well," Erik retorted, serious this time. Patrick decided to leave it at that, too tired to continue protesting. You Norsemen sure are stubborn.

There was a moment of silence as Patrick enjoyed his drink while Erik continued doing busy work: cleaning mugs and glasses, wiping the bar top, checking barrel levels, and serving the patrons at the other end of the bar. Patrick's mind wandered back to his conversation with Erik about the inn's namesake. _This Olaf boy is connected to the Queen of Arendelle, he thought, I need to meet him or, at least, know about him. If he is the queen's son, it might be away for me to get close to the queen. But how?_

"Erik," he said, stopping the man from his task at hand. "I remember you were going to tell me about Olaf, the inn's namesake." The innkeeper suddenly had an anxious look on his face, like Patrick found out a secret he wasn't supposed to know. Patrick glanced over to the men who suddenly became very interested in topic at hand. The Norseman opposite of him didn't notice this however, still staring at Patrick.

"Oh, yes," he replied nervously after a few moments. "Well, you see, Mr. O'Hare – "

"Patrick," the assassin corrected.

"Sorry. Well, you see, Mr. O' – I mean Patrick – Olaf isn't exactly a boy. He's more of a man. Made of snow."

"A snowman?" Patrick furrowed his brow, not comprehensive of what the Arendellian was saying.

"Yes. The queen created him. She has magical powers, you see."

"What kind of powers?" Patrick questioned, beginning to doubt his host's sanity. But, just as Erik was about to answer, the door to his inn swung open and a joyful, almost childish voice rang throughout the tavern, turning everyone's heads to the door.

"Hi Erik!"

* * *

**Thanks for being so patient, even when you asked me to update soon. I don't mind those kind of comments in the reviews, but don't expect me to actually follow through. I have a summer job that keeps me away from my laptop for weeks at a time so updates won't have a solid schedule until August most likely.**

**In the next chapter, Elsa finally encounter's our assassin hero in the most unexpected of ways.**

**As usual, leave a review, fav and follow if you want to read more, and send questions through either the reviews or as a PM to me.**

**-rjcolo**

**P.S. What do you think of the teaser for the next chapter?**


	6. Chapter VI: A First Encounter

**I know you're super excited for this chapter so I'll just shut up and let you read.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen or Assassin's Creed by the way.**

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Elsa and company walked along the streets in Arendelle to one of the royal family's favorite inns: _The Snowman's Cot._ Olaf had run ahead, far too excited to wait on bragging about a place named after him. Walking to their destination made Elsa recall her first meeting of the inn's proprietor. Erik Arneson was once a farmer, just like all the men in his family that came before him. He sometimes bragged about his ancestors being one of the first farmers in the land, before Arendelle was even founded as a kingdom! His property was small but it was enough for him to pay the taxes and feed his family. When Elsa's outburst had occurred however, it completely destroyed his crops like many of his fellow farmers. After the Great Thaw, some tried to rebuild and replant on their land before the actual winter came around. Others simply packed up and immigrated to far off lands to start anew. And then there were those like Erik, who decided to start a new profession entirely.

He had yet thought of a name for his establishment when Olaf and Elsa first met him. They were visiting the village about two weeks after the thaw and Elsa noticed him staring at Olaf in awe. She inquired about his curiosity, which only grew when Olaf gleefully greeted the Norseman with a hug as warm as a snowman can give. Erik was so humbled and inspired by Olaf's kindness that he made the snowman his new inn's moniker. Olaf had never been so proud of himself in his short life.

Elsa also felt proud of him that day – and of herself. At the time, she didn't think anything regarding her powers would be able to ever impact any citizen in her kingdom in a positive manner. Elsa had thought that her people still had a sour taste in their mouths from the events that happened two weeks prior. Many did but she also underestimated the amount of people who appreciated her, not only for her powers, but also for her role as queen. For many of these people, they had been under the rule of monarchs their whole lives. The untimely death of Elsa's parents sent a shock of confusion throughout the entire kingdom. After three years, and a few very cold and uncertain days, they finally had a ruler they could look to again for guidance and confidence, even if she wasn't so sure of herself. Elsa smiled, thinking about how far she had come since her coronation.

"What're you thinking about?" Carter asked lightheartedly.

"I was just thinking of how far my kingdom has come since my coronation," she replied with an even bigger smile,

"You didn't think you would serve them well as their queen?" he asked inquisitively.

"No, especially after what happened at my coronation," she frowned, avoiding his gaze. Elsa didn't have the heart to tell him about her powers. Although it wasn't a secret to anyone in Arendelle, Carter was obviously a stranger here. He had just met her, and from what she heard and read, it never snows where he comes from. She can't even imagine what his reaction to her powers would be. Then again, he didn't seem to panic at the sight of Olaf. That was good sign for sure, but she still wanted to wait until she was comfortable with him and vice versa.

Despite being awestruck by their first encounter, there was still something about Carter that Elsa couldn't seem to get past. It might've been his weapons or maybe his aura of overbearing confidence that almost crossed into arrogance. He was just like the many other monarchs who have attempted to court her in the past year: gentlemanly and proper, but sometimes conceited.

But he also had what most other royals didn't: modesty. Not once did she hear him say anything about himself. He made no declaration of his social or political standing, gave no tales of his life in riches; he seemed like a simple man, with simple desires. He sounded more interested in Elsa than any other man that vied for her attention during their small talk. She hadn't felt like that about anyone in her life. Her conflicting feelings started growing into a small storm. She immediately pushed out the thoughts when she noticed a very thin layer of frost form on Carter's arm. He didn't seem to notice, or didn't want to make a fuss about it. It was probably refreshing in the warmness of the day.

"It seems like something you don't wish to talk about," he finally said after a moment of silence between them.

Elsa looked over at Anna and Kristoff, both merrily talking, never averting their loving stares away from each other. The storm inside her quickly subsided as she remembered some advice Anna had given her on courtship. Anna told her if conversing with any man was natural, it was a good sign and conversing with Carter was no problem at all.

"I can't lie," she said, choosing her next words carefully. She didn't want to alarm him, "it was a very dark time in my life." _More like the thirteen years leading up to that night_, she internally thought right after her statement.

"It's alright," said Carter, "you don't have to tell me if you don't wish for me to know. I understand how painful of an ordeal it is to fill in a father's shoes."

She looked at him in incredulously. _He knew of my father's death, but not of my powers?_ She brushed off her suspicions immediately though, seeing how genuine he was about his statement.

"What do you mean?" she asked, changing to a look of sympathy.

"Well, when I was still becoming a man, my mother died of disease. My father soon disappeared after her death, leaving me to run our family's plantation." _So he's a plantation owner_. One thing Elsa was definitely most aware of was the practices of slavery in the United States. She was not too fond of the idea of forced servitude, but she bit her tongue. Carter seemed like a smart enough man to know slavery had been outlawed in Arendelle for a very long time. Her kingdom never delved into the slave trade and she had no intention of changing that. As if reading Elsa's thoughts, Carter quickly defended himself.

"I can't lie, I do own slaves. However, I have never abused them in any way. My father always treated them with great love and care, and he taught me to do the same. The personal assistant who has accompanied me here is practically my brother." Elsa found his statement to be slightly reassuring, but she still studied him intently. No one likes to admit they would have or actually have abused another human being. She gave him a soft smile and he returned it with his own. Soon after, they arrived at Erik's inn, Olaf waiting patiently but eagerly for his friends to catch up.

"Ready?" he specifically asked Carter.

"Very," Carter chuckled at the snowman. Olaf quickly turned to the door and burst into the establishment.

"Hi Erik!" Three men at the left end of the bar, and a man in a white shirt at the other end talking to Erik, occupied the tavern. A couple humbly passed by, bowing their heads in Elsa's direction as they left the inn. The innkeeper looked around from his comate's shoulder and greeted the new patrons with a toothy grin.

"Hello, Olaf," Erik happily greeted back. He then saw the rest the royal family and his smile grew into a grin. "And hello to you, your majesties!"

"Hello, Erik," Anna and Elsa replied in unison. The customer who had been speaking with Erik turned around to see whom the innkeeper had been addressing. His dark brown hair was quite long, down to his shoulders in fact. He had a fairly grown out beard hiding his facial features. His pale blue eyes stood out from his raggedy face though, making contact with hers. He greeted the group with a smile hidden under his beard, a small nod, a raise of his mug, and a simple "Your majesties."

Elsa heard a loud thumping and noticed one of the men at the other end of the bar stomp over to the brown-haired man with a menacing glare. To say this fellow was a giant would be an understatement. He made Kristoff look small, not a quality found in most men. He hunched down so his face was inches from the currently seated man.

"You should be a bit more respec'ful when addressin' tha queen an' princess of Arendelle," he spat. He obviously sounded fairly drunk with his slurs and was looking for a fight. His respect for Elsa would have been flattering if not for his current state. The other man held his gaze at the giant, unperturbed by the belligerent's attempt at intimidation.

"Well, my good man," he began as he stood up, "I must apologize for my behavior. You see, I grew up in a land with no queens or kings or any kind of monarchs of the like. I may respect the queen out of politeness, but that doesn't mean I properly know how to." Carter couldn't help but giggle at the man's speech. Elsa guessed the stranger is American as well, but his accent was definitely unlike Carter's. "Where I come from," he continued, "we value an honest man's hard work more than a man simply born into luxury." That got a frown out of Carter.

"Well, if you ain't respec'in the queen," the giant scowled, "then I guess I'll have to beat it into you!" The giant raised his fist and threw it at the American. With one swift motion, the smaller man stepped aside, grabbed the attackers forearm, and simply threw the giant over his foot, causing the beast to crash onto the floor. The monster's companions rushed over to him, helping him up.

"Le's give this whelp the beatin' he truly deserves, boys," the giant growled. The other two smiled devilishly and started circling around the American. Elsa looked over in terror at the unbelievably calm man in the center of the deadly circle. _I can't imagine what his fate will be after this fight_, she thought, observing the outnumbered man's composed demeanor. He noticed her staring in fear and made eye contact. He gave the queen an impish grin and a wink.

He then went into a fighting stance. Soon after, one of the giant's cronies rushed after him from behind with a battle cry. Reacting with almost inhuman speed, the American spun around, parrying the man's fist and counteracting with a jab to the midsection. The attacker stumbled backwards with a grunt. He grimaced in pain as he held his stomach. The American quickly followed up with punch to the man's jaw from the right and another to his right cheek from the left. He then reared back and sent an upward punch square into his opponent's face. The victim soared up in the air for what seemed like forever and landed on the floor with a loud thud. He rolled around in obvious pain, too injured to continue fighting.

The American turned – his face relaxed to a smirk – toward his other opponents. The smaller of the two was immobile with fear, terrified by what happened to his friend.

"What are you wai'in' for?" the giant asked, "GE' 'IM!" Despite his leader's request, the man just stood there. Elsa looked down and had to hide her smile with her hand while silently laughing. His pants had a dark stain in the crotch. The giant soon noticed as well and growled in angry disappointment. "Well, if your too scared tha' you pissin' yur pan's, then I guess I'll ha' ta do it!" He then charged at the American fist raised, roaring at the top of his lungs. The American simply sidestepped, wrapped his arms around the giant's outstretched one and then broke the monster's trunk of an arm in one fluid motion. Everyone cringed at the loud crack of breaking bones. The giant howled in pain and sunk to floor in a weeping mess, gingerly holding his now shattered arm. The American then knelt down to the crying giant, grim wrath on his face.

"Now, get out of this tavern," he whispered softly, but loud enough so that all could hear in the nearly silent room. His sudden change in emotion sent a shiver down Elsa's spine. "And if I see you or either of your friends here again, I'll make sure to break more of your bones. You have 205 left, so I can take my time with that," with that he stood. After a few seconds of the fallen giant sobbing, the American snapped. "I SAID GET OUT!" The three ruffians rushed out of _The Snowman's Cot_ with as much speed as their legs could give them. The roar made everyone jump, not expecting the outburst from the once composed warrior. He snarled at the door, returned to his stool and resumed his drinking, muttering curses under his breath.

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**So I'm alive and well. And I'm finally finished with work and getting ready to move in to my first apartment. Don't worry, I won't disappear for another month like this last time.**

**Since I didn't do so at the beginning, I'd like to thank xXNorwegianAssassinXx for beta reading this chapter.**

**Soooo, what do you think? I know, I know Patrick seemed to just ignore Olaf but good things come to those who wait.**

**As always, leave a review if you wish and follow or even fav the story. Any questions can go in the comments or a PM to your's truly.**

**-rjcolo**


	7. Chapter VII: Magic and Revelations

**Here's the moment you've all been waiting for. How will an assassin react to a living snowman? Read on to find out.**

**As always, have fun.**

**Disclaimer: AC and Frozen don't belong to me. *cries* At least the original characters are mine though!**

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Patrick sat on his stool, still brooding over the brute that threatened him. _Sure showed him_ he thought. His dark reverie was suddenly broken by that same childish voice from before.

"That…was… AMAZING!" the voice shouted. Patrick noticed a figure hop up on to the stool next to him. "That freak was like 'rawr!' then you were like 'hua!' and then he was like 'ahhh' and then you were like 'grr' and then they ran off. You were so brave!" Patrick couldn't help but smile at the kid's excitement over his battle with the giant. He turned to face his appraiser, only to be shocked to find a snowman instead of a boy. The snowman had big round eyes and what seemed to be a humorously large tooth jutting out from what Patrick assumed were his lips. The large carrot could only be his nose. Patrick also noticed how the snowman's head was as big as the rest of him.

Patrick blinked hard and then rubbed his eyes, but the snowman was still there, staring at him with the biggest smile, unawares of Patrick's concern. He looked over to the snowman's entourage, who seemed to be getting a kick out of Patrick, especially the large, blonde man struggling to contain his laughter. Patrick looked back at the snowman and then at Erik.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" the snowman exclaimed loudly, tearing Patrick from his trance. "Hi, I'm Olaf and I like warm hugs," the snowman presented himself with his arms opened wide, ready to receive an embrace.

"Olaf?" Patrick asked incredulously. Patrick looked to the innkeeper, who had a smug look on his face that said, 'I told you so.'

"Yeeeeaaaah," the snowman answered, seeming to be confused by Patrick's behavior.

"And you're alive?" Patrick asked, now with more curiosity than caution.

"Yeeeeaaah," Olaf repeated, "Is everything okay?" Patrick just stared in disbelief.

"I believe he's just fine, Olaf," someone interrupted. It was a lovely, melodious voice that gained Patrick attention over the living snowman next to him. He looked over to see a beautiful woman standing before him.

She was tall with wide hips, a thin waist, and modestly sized bosom. Her blonde, almost white, hair was tied in a thick braid casted over her left shoulder that fell to the bottom of her breast. Her skin was a pale and smooth porcelain that made her seem very delicate. Her lips were full and red; her cheeks were round and soft and her nose dainty but what really caught Patrick's attention were the woman's eyes. They were a bright, vivid, icy blue that froze Patrick in his place. His heartbeat steadily grew the longer he stared into them.

"I'm Elsa," the woman introduced herself with a warm smile.

"Q-queen Elsa?" Patrick fumbled, barely able to speak. The lady chuckled at his response.

"Yes, I am the queen of Arendelle," she answered, "May I ask your name, oh brave and courageous fighter?"

"Patrick O'Hare," Patrick muttered, "From Massachusetts."

"So you're from America, too?" another asked all of a sudden. It was another woman; a freckled redhead who looked very much like Elsa, except for her teal eyes that shined with unwavering joy and innocence.

"You must be Princess Anna," Patrick observed, finding his wits again.

"Yessiree," she replied, standing up straighter in pride.

"Well, I must apologize for my rude behavior as the giant mentioned earlier," Patrick began as he stood up, only to bow low to the royals. "I am Patrick O'Hare of Massachusetts. At your service." Patrick's gesture got a giggle from the girls and Olaf, who Patrick suddenly remembered.

"And I must apologize for not introducing myself to you earlier, Olaf." Olaf bashfully chuckled at Patrick.

"Well, I'm starving," Princess Anna announced, "Let's get a table to eat." She turned around and grabbed the big, burly, blonde fellow and led him to a table. The tall, dark haired man followed suit and Olaf jumped from his stool to join them as well. Queen Elsa began to leave, but stopped and turned back to Patrick. They both stood in uncomfortable silence and Patrick noticed the queen wanted to say something. She muttered something too softly for Patrick to hear.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, leaning in to better hear her. He didn't notice how close he actually came to her until he felt her breath on his face. Queen Elsa blushed at their close proximity and Patrick could feel his cheeks warming as well.

"I was wondering if you'd like to join us?" she timidly asked. Patrick smiled at her shyness.

"I'd love to," he replied. A smile grew on Queen Elsa's face and she wrapped an arm his own and escorted him to her friends' table.

While they waited for their lunch to arrive, the royal family drilled Patrick and the other man with questions about their homes and lives. The other man was named Carter Bingham, a Southern boy who grew up on a large cotton plantation. His family had gained great success with the sudden need of the American crop. Although it boosted the U.S. economy by ten-fold, it also increased the need of slaves by ten-fold. Patrick had seen the cruelty some owners and enforcers brought upon the poor men and women who toiled over fields from sun-up to sundown whilst being whipped or clubbed. It was a depressing sight he could barely manage to watch. Carter claimed to treat his slaves with respect and care, but only a sociopath would be willing to openly admit to abusing other human beings. He seemed humble and respectful but that was probably due to his upbringing in the antebellum lifestyle he left behind.

When Patrick was asked about his home growing up, it was a stark contrast from the one Carter lived. He had been born to a family that farmed for many generations. One bad winter horribly set back his father though, and they were forced to move to Boston so his father could find work. One day, Patrick decided to pack up and leave, having enough of his broken family. He probably would've died much sooner if his mentor, Connor Kenway, didn't catch him stealing an apple from the market on a hot summer day. At least, that's the story he told them. He didn't want these strangers to know more about his heartbreaking past. He also neglected to mention Connor's association with the Assassin Brotherhood, and simply stated his mentor was a man that owned an estate, took care of him and taught him how to protect himself. When asked why he came to Arendelle, Patrick told them he wanted to start a trading business in Europe so the townsfolk back home could receive some foreign goods. At his disclosure of setting up a "trading post," Kristoff, eyed Patrick suspiciously.

"So you're a trader, huh?"

"Is that a problem?" Patrick asked in response, trying to sound slightly offended by the mountain man's tone.

"Kristoff, be nice!" Anna snapped, smacking her beau on the shoulder. "Sorry, he hasn't been very fond of traders ever since the day we met."

"How did you two meet?" Patrick perked up. They were obviously very in love with each other and Patrick (though he would never confess it) was a sucker for romance.

"It's quite a long story, actually," Anna answered.

"I like long stories."

"Well…" Anna began but drifted off, glimpsing her teal eyes at her sister. Everyone else followed her gaze toward Elsa, and Patrick noticed a solemn look had come across her face.

"Does it involve Elsa?" Carter asked playfully with a laugh. Patrick looked at the man in disbelief. _She's obviously upset, you insensitive twit,_ he thought shocked by the man's unawareness at how touchy the subject must've been for the poor queen.

"You don't have to tell us if it's difficult for your sister," the assassin glanced at the redhead, but then looked back at Elsa, who was now staring right back at him in surprise. Her eyes looked right into his and his heart suddenly began racing again. He quickly gave her a comforting smile in attempt to hide any infatuation.

"I understand," Anna said after considering Patrick's words.

"No, it's fine," Elsa sternly interjected. "It's been over a year now. I need to just accept what I did."

"But Elsa…"

"No, Anna. The past is in the past. I can't change it for the better." After a few moments, her expression softened. "To be honest though, I wouldn't if I could. The tragedy I caused helped me overcome my fear of my powers, made us sisters again, and helped you find true love. I think I can handle the recounting of the events."

"Tragedy?" Carter asked peculiarly.

"Remember how I told you about my coronation being a dark period in my life?" Elsa asked her escort. Carter thought for a moment and then nodded. He turned his gaze toward Anna.

"Go on."

"Elsa, are you sure?" Anna asked one more time.

"Yes, Anna," the lovely queen reassured.

"Ok, well…" and Anna went off about the events of a year ago. From the coronation to the thaw, she went into great detail on how her romance with Kristoff began. At the end it all, Patrick was still doubtful of their story. Magic and trolls seemed so outlandish to him. Olaf's presence was the only thing that made the assassin hold on to a thin, taut string of belief in this story.

"So, you're saying that you have powers over snow and ice and that magical trolls _actually_ exist?" he eventually asked in a doubtful manner. He couldn't help myself. The story just seemed so childish, like out of a fables book.

"Would it be better if I showed you?" Elsa asked, a sly smirk directed towards him. It somehow flustered him and he noticed his cheeks began glowing red.

"Seeing is believing," he retorted with a half smile, struggling to keep composure. With that response, Elsa rubbed her hands and set her right one on top of the table. She lifted slowly, ice forming some kind of miniature structure under her rising palm. The two Americans stared in disbelief. Bluish light and tiny snowflakes danced from Elsa's hand as the ice took form of what appeared to be a castle. When she finished, she crossed her arms looking satisfied with her work. Patrick looked back and forth between Elsa and the tiny castle before him. _I don't know what I just witnessed, but it was definitely some sort of magic_, Patrick thought, his mouth agape.

When Patrick regained his wits, he examined the empty stew bowl before him and yelled out, "Hey Mary! Did you put some Jamaican grass in my stew?" The company around him, save for a dumbfounded Carter, roared into laughter. Patrick looked over at the laughing Elsa, elated to see her merriment. Her eyes met his again, and his heart practically leapt out of his throat.

"What makes you think I'd do that?" Mary asked, more annoyed than worried, as she approached the table. When she saw Elsa's work, she immediately froze in place.

"Your majesty," she began, still staring in awe, "It's absolutely beautiful."

"Thank you, Mary," Elsa politely replied with small, shy smile.

"Is this the castle you created in the North Mountain?" Carter finally stammered out, still staring at the marvel in front of him.

"Indeed it is," Elsa replied, gently pushing up his chin to close his agape mouth with her lithe fingers. The intimate gesture slight irked Patrick. _What's he got that I don't?_ he asked himself _Oh yeah, that's right. Looks, manners, money, power; everything a queen could ask for in a suitor_. He usually never took interest in the pretty, rich girls, but there was something about Elsa he couldn't get over. Her eyes alone have been hypnotizing him for the duration of their lunch. She was the most beautiful human being Patrick had ever come across. _I'm starting to actually enjoy Arendelle_ he smirked at his thoughts whilst staring at the queen.

"Will that be all?" Elizabeth asked, ripping Patrick out of his daydream of the gorgeous woman.

"I believe so," Carter said for everyone else. "How much will it be?"

"For the queen and princess? Nothing!" they heard Mary yell from across the room.

"Oh no, please Mary, let us pay," Patrick interjected. He wasn't going to let them off easy this time.

"No. I will not let my friends pay for their meals," Mary piqued.

"Well, that's just too bad," Carter said whilst pulling out a purse full of coins from his belt. "For your troubles," he politely said when he placed the bag in the Irishwoman's hand.

"Thank you, dearie," she finally said after contemplating returning the money. All except Patrick stood up to continue with their day and began heading out the door. He began saying his farewells until he noticed the castle on the table.

"Queen Elsa!" Patrick exclaimed, causing everyone to turn heads. He approached Elsa with the cool castle in hand. "You forgot this," he said shyly gesturing it to her.

"I didn't forget it," she smiled, "please keep it."

"Are you sure?" he asked hesitantly. She suddenly raised herself up and Patrick felt her soft lips grace his cheek. His face instantly flushed as he felt a stunning sensation spread throughout his body. He looked at the goddess flabbergasted. She merely chuckled at his expression.

"Absolutely," she softly replied. An impulsive statement suddenly rose from Patrick's throat.

"Will I ever see you again?" he asked in a longing tone. _Well done, idiot. Now you look absolutely desperate._

"Possibly," she coquettishly answered, fluttering her eyes. "I do wander about the village from time to time."

"Well, we're taking Carter here on tour through Arendelle," Anna added, "Would you care to join us?"

"As much as I would love to," Patrick regretfully replied, "I unfortunately have just arrived today from a long sailing trip…"

"And don't forget your little scuffle," Carter merrily interrupted. The assassin gave him an annoyed glance and resumed.

"I just arrived from a long sailing trip and am quite tired and will probably retire for the day." Although it was only a few hours past midday, Patrick was absolutely exhausted. Add the two more mugs of ale and the warm stew in his belly he had for lunch and you could say he was ready to crash into the comfy bed upstairs.

"Well, that's a shame," Elsa teased.

"Would you be up for a tour tomorrow?" Anna asked. A tour would be nice, but Patrick wanted a self-guided tour of Arendelle in his style. _I don't think any of these people are up to running across rooftops and jumping from high peaks_ he thought. But he couldn't say no to the royal family.

"Tomorrow sounds perfect," he answered.

"Well, I won't be able to attend tomorrow," Elsa replied, "Since I am putting off my duties today, I'll have some catching up to do tomorrow."

"Well, that's a shame," Patrick repeated sarcastically. Elsa teasingly rolled her eyes at his jape. _She's good-humored as well. Is there anything about her that isn't perfect?_

"Well, we must be going," Carter interrupted, "I, like Queen Elsa here, have much business to attend to that needs to be done sooner rather than later. So with that, I bid you adieu, Mr. O'Hare." Carter extended his hand. Patrick took it, but as soon as he did, Carter yanked the assassin towards him until his lips were an inch from Patrick's ear. He whispered a message that sent chills down Patrick's spine.

"I know exactly who you are, _Assassin_," he began, "and if I see you or any of your co-conspirators near the queen ever again, I will personally hunt you down like the dog you are and hang you at the front of the fjord to let all know that Arendelle belongs to the Templars."

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**And so the plot begins to thickens. As always, leave a review if you'd like, fav and follow the story and ask me questions either through the review section or as a PM to me.**

**-rjcolo**


	8. Chapter VIII: A Tour and a Thief

**So here's Chapter 8. It's my longest chapter yet, so enjoy.**

**As for the late update, I'll explain myself later. But as always, have fun.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen or Assassin's Creed. Sorry, I tried.**

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Patrick awoke stretching and yawning rather loudly when the sun began to rise. He hadn't had such a heavenly or peaceful sleep in ages. As soon as his newfound friends, and an apparent adversary, departed the inn, Patrick went upstairs, tiredly undressed and snuggled into the warm embrace of his new bed. He had no dreams or nightmares – just blissful sleep.

He sat up on his bed and looked out his window at the rising sun. It seemed like it was going to be another beautiful day in Arendelle. As Patrick gazed out upon the sight, he began reviewing his schedule for the day. _Mostly exploring the kingdom of Arendelle_. That's when he remembered Princess Anna was going to provide him with a tour of the town today. He was a little disheartened at not climbing the buildings, but he knew he could always climb another day, perhaps tonight if he felt up for it.

While looking out the window, his eyes drifted to the little blue castle on his nightstand. He smiled at the gift Queen Elsa left him. The perfect beauty of the model only reminded him of its perfectly stunning creator. He wanted nothing more than her in his arms, in the bed he was in at this moment. He suddenly realized what kind of sinful scenes were playing out in his head and immediately shook them away. _I've barely known the woman for a day and she already has a spell on me _he thought, worried, excited, and confused all at once.

After finally getting Queen Elsa out of his thoughts, he asked Mary to prepare a washtub for him. While waiting for the tub, Patrick groomed himself, cutting his hair and beard to a more presentable length. His hair was cut to about half way down his neck and his beard was shaved much closer now, showing the handsome cheekbones and slanted jaw that was once hidden beneath the jungle of hair. When Mary came to inform Patrick in regards to the washtub being ready, she gasped in delightful surprise.

"I knew there was a handsome man under all that hair," she japed. Patrick grinned back, a slight blush glowing on his face.

"Is the tub ready?"

"It is indeed," she answered. "Would you like me to prepare you some breakfast, dearie?"

"Some potato pancakes and sausage, if you would?" Patrick politely requested. The stew he had the day before was near flawless, and Patrick became all the more hungry for Mary's cooking.

"Absolutely," And with a wide smile, Mary departed. Patrick went over to the washroom, stripped down and lowered himself into the soothing, hot, soapy water, sighing loudly in ecstasy at the way the steaming liquid loosened all his stiff muscles. After reveling in relaxation, Patrick proceeded to scrub off the filth and smell of the long months spent on a ship. He was glad he could feel fresh and clean again.

Afterwards, he closed his eyes sinking in until only his head was above the water. He was basking in the loose numbness his body felt until he heard the door crack slightly open. His eyes darted to the intruder, only to find Elizabeth trying to sneak in a dry towel for the man. When she realized he spotted her, the lass immediately froze and her face became a terribly bright red. She wore a white blouse and a dark blue skirt that reached her ankles. Her hair was tied in a loose tail that rested on her back.

"I'm sorry. I was just putting this in for you. I didn't mean to interrupt or intrude or anything," the red-faced girl rapidly blabbered.

"It's quite alright, Elizabeth," Patrick replied, "Would you pass me that towel actually? I'm just about done here."

"Umm, yes sir, Mr. O'Hare," she hesitantly replied, extending the towel in her hand towards him. Patrick was about to stand when he noticed the young lady who hadn't left the washroom. She just stood there, her pupils growing wider into her green irises at the naked man before her, taking in the entirety of his sculpted muscles. Patrick let out an amused laugh.

"You expecting a show?" he kidded with a wink and a sly grin. When Elizabeth realized the context of Patrick's joke, she dashed out of the washroom, covering her face in embarrassment. Patrick shook his head and chuckled at the young woman. He headed back to his room to pick his outfit for the day. He decided to leave his coat, anticipating the day to be as warm as the one before. He found another white shirt and donned black pants this time, tucking them into his boots. Looking through his wardrobe, he decided to throw on a black vest and red ascot for a more presentable appearance for the princess. He buckled on his wrist blades over his sleeves, strapped on his trusty sabre, and holstered one of his two revolvers, just for added protection; he was taking no chances today. Satisfied with his attire, Patrick rushed downstairs to enjoy the mouth-watering breakfast awaiting him. A cheerful Erik, preparing the bar for the day ahead, greeted him.

"Morning, Patrick! Seems you slept well yesterday."

"You have no idea," Patrick grinned, "I haven't been able to sleep like that in ages. Your beds are incomparable."

"I'm sure it's just the fresh air from the mountains," Erik joked, feeling more comfortable around his guest. Elizabeth came around the corner with a steaming plate of the breakfast Patrick requested and placed the meal in front of him, trying with all her might to avoid making eye contact with the handsome fellow. Her previous encounter with Patrick must've been the least ladylike act she had ever committed. "Thank you, Elizabeth," Patrick said, genuinely grateful for the service and hospitality he had received so far.

"Just call her Lizzie," Erik said, "That's what her friends and family call her."

"It's fine," Elizabeth stammered, "I kind of like the sound of Elizabeth."

"Well, you'll still be our little Lizzie," Mary chimed in, placing a glass of hot coffee in front of Patrick. "Cream and sugar?" she asked.

"Black is fine. Thank you kindly," he replied. The family went about their business silently while Patrick enjoyed his wonderfully delicious meal. As he took his time with every savory bite of fluffy potato pancakes and juicy sausage, coupled with the soothing warmth of the coffee, he began anticipating what the princess of Arendelle would be like. _If she is anything like her sister, probably proper and graceful_ he thought. She did seem more confident than her sister when introducing herself though. After Patrick finished his meal, he turned and stared at the front door, waiting patiently for the freckled princess to walk through. As he sat there, he began to make conversation with Elizabeth.

There was definitely more to the girl's shy exterior, which fell when she warmed up to Patrick. He learned that Elizabeth was an avid reader and enjoyed music and dance when she wasn't working at the inn. She even sang Patrick a couple of Irish folk songs her mother taught her. Patrick enjoyed hearing the lass sing; her voice was very melodious, and he even joined in on a couple of the tunes. She talked about her dreams and aspirations as well. She wanted to go to Paris and discover if the tales of its beauty were true.

While talking with the young lass, Patrick would glance at the door every-so-often to see if Princess Anna had arrived. He began to feel a conflicting mix of dismay and happiness for the princess had yet to appear. He was happy because that would mean he could possibly run on the rooftops during day and get a better feel of the area for himself; dismay because…well, he wasn't quite sure; unsure whether because he might miss an opportunity to really get close to the queen – his main reason for being here – or because he was actually seeing the princess as an important ally and maybe even a friend. Elizabeth noticed Patrick's uneasiness.

"Is everything alright?"

"Well, the princess is supposed to give me a tour of her kingdom today, but it will be midday soon."

"Oh," Elizabeth said. Patrick studied her. She was looking at her lap and fumbling her hands contemplating her next response.

"Well, if she d-doesn't show, I-I could give you a tour," she stuttered nervously. Patrick noticed a look of regret as soon as she spoke those words. Although his plan to explore the city alone had almost come to fruition, it seemed another pretty lady thwarted them. She was so sweet and innocent though. _Maybe some time away from The Snowman's Cot could do the lass some good_.

"I think I'll take you up on that offer," he answered after a few long moments of silence. Elizabeth's face immediately lit up and she began bouncing in her seat. "But," Patrick interrupted her celebration, "I'll wait for the princess a little longer." He didn't want to disrespect the princess of his new home. It would definitely upset her and her sister, the queen, in the process if he seemed to just ignore an invitation of a personal tour. He had his foot in the door. Now he just needed to get the rest of himself into the castle.

After what seemed like "a little longer," Elizabeth and Patrick rose from their stools and headed out for the day.

"Ma, Pa," Elizabeth called out from the door, "I'm going to take Patrick on a tour."

Patrick heard Mary yelling something, indiscernible from where he was standing. Elizabeth then turned and smiled brightly at her company.

"Ma asked me to stop by the market to buy some flour for baking," she said.

"I believe the market is a good place to start the tour then," Patrick suggested lightheartedly. Elizabeth giggled at his quip, biting her bottom lip. Patrick, being trained in some ways of courting, offered his arm to his new tour guide, who gladly accepted, wrapping her hands around his strong upper-arm.

The day was just as marvelous as the one before: the sun was shining bright with little clouds covering the bright blue sky. People were hustling about again on their daily summer routines, merchants advertising what they had for sale, children's laughter and cries of joy ringing through the air; it was just another merry day in Arendelle. Patrick was taking in the splendorous scene until he saw a familiar head of red hair stand out in the crowd. The head turned to look at him and Elizabeth, the face easily recognizable for the duo. Princess Anna bolted right in their direction, almost tripping over herself multiple times.

"It…seems you…started…without me, Patrick," she panted, trying to regain her breath. She wore a bright teal blouse with a black dress today, her kingdom's signature crocus embroidered on its bosom. Her hair was braided in the same plaits as they day before, hanging towards the ground as she bent over to regain her breath.

"I'm sorry, your majesty," Patrick apologized while trying to stop himself from laughing.

"Oh…no need to. I should be the one…apologizing," she managed to get out. After taking in a deep breath, she started explaining herself. "After I got back home from my day in the village, Kristoff and I spent the rest of the evening together and we kind of stayed up through most of the night. I over slept like, really late. Well, I always oversleep compared to everyone I know, but it was oversleeping for me. I didn't even realize…"

"It's quite alright, your majesty," Patrick chuckled, putting an end to the princess's drawn-out explanation. The princess blushed and gave a sheepish smile. _Maybe she's not as regal as I thought,_ Patrick observed.

"Please, call me Anna," she said, "We're friends now so I don't think formalities are necessary."

"Sounds good to me," he replied, his smile growing wider. _Mission accomplished – partly_.

"If the princess is here," Elizabeth suddenly spoke up gloomily, "then I guess I'm not needed anymore."

"Now what makes you think you'd be let off that easy?" Patrick asked. Elizabeth looked at him, obviously surprised that he wanted her to stay with him and the princess.

"Are you sure?" she asked uneasily.

"Of course," Anna chimed in, "There's no reason for you to just go home right now." Elizabeth smiled at Anna's reassurance.

"I do need to pick up flour for Ma anyway," Elizabeth said.

"Hooray!" a familiar voice cheered from the crowd. The trio looked to see Olaf approach them, his never ceasing smile lightening everyone's hearts.

"There you are!" Anna exclaimed. "Where have you been?"

"I was just smelling some new flowers that came into the shop," Olaf answered, "They're absolutely beautiful. I think they're called lills."

"You're thinking of lilies," Patrick corrected.

"Yeah, those," Olaf said. The group of four stood in awkward silence for a few more moments before Anna finally said something.

"So, are you ready for your official royal tour of Arendelle?" she asked Patrick.

"I've been waiting half the day, I'm sure I can wait longer," he quipped. Elizabeth and Olaf giggled while Anna face flushed even more.

"Ha, ha, ha," she deadpanned. She then quickly changed her expression and smiled at Patrick. "Follow me!"

As the four friends made their way through Arendelle's busy market square, Anna began talking about the kingdom and what history she knew. She also told different stories of her visits in town with Olaf or Kristoff, or even Elsa who, according to Anna, never left the castle much due to "being the queen and all." During Anna's storytelling, Patrick looked at all the buildings, picturing in his head how easy or difficult it would be to climb the structures. Most had plenty of grabs and footholds for him to ascent to the rooftops, especially with the flowerbeds that hung out from the windows. Most structures were small and close enough to not be a hassle to run through, only showing wide gaps at major streets.

The group was still making their way through the market when someone suddenly dashed through them. They were all appalled at the person's rudeness but a shopkeeper quickly explained his hurried manner.

"Thief!" the merchant yelled, "Stop him!" Before anyone else could even blink, Patrick sprinted after the mysterious robber. He easily spotted the culprit hurrying through the crowd, trying to be discreet. Patrick had a trained eye for these kinds of people though. He yelled out to the thief, who then broke off into a sprint, not caring for whom he pushed over. Patrick gave chase. The thief ran through the market, clumsily pushing over pedestrians, stands and whatever else fell victim to his grasp. Patrick ducked, weaved, sidestepped, and jumped through the clutter with such grace and ease that surprised every onlooker that caught a glimpse of him. The thief looked back, realizing his attempts at slowing down Patrick were failing miserably. Patrick saw the panic in his eyes and grinned wolfishly at his target.

The thief quickened his pace and started to dart through a system of alleyways, hoping the maze of buildings would confuse his pursuer. Patrick knew what the boy was doing and immediately ran to some construction work by a building. He found a pulley rope suspending a box of wood. He instinctively grabbed hold and broke the counterweight, sending him flying up to the building's rooftop. He launched onto the roof and easily spotted the boy sprinting through the alleys. He began leaping from rooftop to rooftop without a misstep or loss of balance. His company and any passerby who happened to look up stared on with bewilderment at the strange man running on rooftops. A couple of guards even called for him to get down, but Patrick ignored their commands, keeping his eye on the thief. He looked ahead and saw his chance at catching him. He leapt off the edge towards a wider street. His timing was perfect as he landed on the sprinting thief, unsuspecting of his Patrick's skill. Patrick pinned the lad with his knees on his arms, the victims face bearing the hard, dirty cobblestone of the street.

"Give me what you've stolen," Patrick viciously demanded the thief.

"Give me a good reason why," the thief spat back. Patrick then pulled out his pistol, pulling back the hammer and aiming at the boy's head.

"Sure thing. It can splatter your brains all over the street!"

"Alright, alright, fine!" he quickly stammered, "You win." After a brief pause of nothing Patrick became irritated.

"Well?"

"Well what?" the thief asked back.

"Where's whatever you stole?"

"It's kind of hard for me to get it out of my pocket if I can't move my arms," the thief retorted. Groaning at the boy's cheekiness, Patrick lifted him up with one hand while still keeping the gun pointed at him with the other. The thief then took a small purse of coins out of his pocket and hesitantly handed them to Patrick. The two stared hard at each other. The boy Patrick caught was slightly taller than him, although thinner. He sported shaggy, brown hair on his head and his eyes were a golden pair of suns trying to set Patrick on fire.

"What's your name?" Patrick asked.

"Why do you care?" the thief retorted.

"You were quite fast during our little chase," Patrick replied, his expression softening to slight admiration, but only a little.

"Yeah, what's it to you?" the thief asked, now becoming confused and more angry with his captor.

"How long have you been thieving?"

"What's with all the questions?"

"I'll answer yours when you answer mine."

"Fine! My name is Vinjar. Vinjar Irenson. I've been thieving for the past year now. And I haven't been caught once until you came along."

"So, since the Great Thaw?"

"My family's had some hard times since our 'oh-so-wonderful' witch-queen froze the land in the worst winter anyone in this town has ever seen. Even Old Man Ragnar the Red said so, and he's probably almost as old as this godforsaken kingdom!"

"Hey!" another voice suddenly shouted. The two males looked over to see a now very offended Anna.

"Oh, if it isn't the lovely princess?" Vinjar sarcastically scowled. "I see you're out of the castle yet again. Don't you have anything better to do than annoy the common-folk with your royal presence?"

"That's enough out of you!" Patrick snarled, growing furious at the boy's audacity. He pressed his gun to just under Vinjar's jaw, growling at him, but the thief didn't waver.

"Fine, but before I go, Princess Anna, I have a message for your sister." Vinjar paused. "Tell her that I may be a thief, but I wouldn't have to resort to such acts if she didn't freeze the kingdom. Now because of her wicked sorcery, my sister is dying of disease and the only way I can save up to buy food to keep us both alive is to pinch some extra coins from people. I can't afford to get any kind of medicine for her. But now everyone is suddenly happy cause your sister brought back summer after her little fuck up. Well while everyone else was moving on with their lives, my sister and I are still stuck in winter! It pisses me off and your prancing around almost every single day adds salt to my wounds. So you and your witch of a sister can go fuck yourselves!" Patrick bared his teeth, a snarling wolf ready to tear out the boy's throat. Anna's face fell, her body shaking in a struggle to fight back tears falling from her eyes.

"To insulted to speak I see? Well if you want to kill me, so be it, but let me take you to my sister first so you can put her out of her misery as well," he suggested. No one spoke for a long while; the assassin coldly glared at the thief while the princess fought her tears. The innkeeper's daughter and the living snowman stood extremely uncomfortable with the situation as a small crowd began to gather at the commotion of the boy's tirade.

"What are you waiting for? Just tell your dog to shoot and get it over with!"

The princess had enough of the boy's presence and words. She stormed off with we cheeks and eyes sparkling with tears. Olaf hurried after her to try to comfort one of his best friends. A tense silence feel between the now trio.

"Where are your parents?" Patrick suddenly asked.

"Both dead or gone. My father ran out on us years ago and my mother recently passed after the cold of last year's storm," Vinjar solemnly answered.

"Where is your sister right now?" Elizabeth asked as Patrick released the tall boy, but still kept the gun aimed at him. Vinjar contemplated whether he should take them to his home.

"This way," Vinjar said as he led the way. Patrick holstered his gun and motioned Elizabeth to follow.

As the assassin and the young inn keep's daughter followed the thief, the buildings became more sparse and the trees more abundant. Before they knew it, Patrick and Elizabeth were in the thick of the forest outside of town. After some time of walking in silence, Vinjar led the duo to a small hut made of sticks and mud. Inside seemed to have a fire glowing past the drape that was a makeshift door.

Vinjar led the two inside the small, circled interior. The only two things present in the hut were a large fire in the center, and a young girl wrapped in many different blankets. Despite the warm weather and the blazing fire before her, she was very noticeably cold, shivering inside the cocoon of blankets wrapped around her.

"This is Astrid," Vinjar said.

"What's wrong with her?" Elizabeth asked with great concern, approaching the girl and gently placing her hand on her forehead.

"I'm not sure," Vinjar answered in a weary voice. "She's been like this since the freeze happened. Even after the Great Thaw, her condition just kept getting worse. Our mother had succumbed to a terrible cold, but this…I-I just don't know. She's just cold, all the time." Patrick could only stare in silent disbelief. Elsa's magic shouldn't be to blame for Astrid's strange condition, but there was no other explanation. It was only yesterday he had seen the beauty in Elsa's magic; today, he was witnessing its ugly side.

"How long have you two been staying here?" Elizabeth asked after another long moment of intense silence.

"Next month will be a year's anniversary in my building of this place. I haven't been able to afford a doctor to examine her at all." Vinjar's voice cracked at the end of his statement. Elizabeth looked over to Patrick, tears brimming in her soft, green eyes, wanting to help the boy and his ailing sister. The look was one simple question: "What should we do?" Patrick stared back, not knowing what to do either.

"We can take you in," Elizabeth suddenly proclaimed. Patrick and Vinjar both looked at her, astonished. "You and your sister," Elizabeth continued, "my parents own an inn and Patrick is residing there right now. I'll speak to my parents about letting you stay and possibly even giving you some work to earn some money for a doctor."

"No need for you to pay for a doctor," Patrick interjected, "I can handle that."

Vinjar stared at the two strangers in disbelief. Earlier today Patrick had him pinned to the ground with a gun at his head. Now he was willing to pay for a doctor to diagnose his sister's bizarre illness. And Elizabeth was offering him and his sister a bed to sleep in. Vinjar stared at the two, dumbfounded by their generosity. After considering their most kind offers, he smiled softly and looked at Elizabeth.

"I'll take up your offer," Vinjar finally said. Elizabeth brought Vinjar into a warm embrace and the boy began to bawl into her shoulder a minute later. He eventually returned Elizabeth's hug, feeling his arms wrap around a warm body for the first time in, what Patrick suspected, forever.

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**I'm really sorry for another late post. I just moved into my new place and started at a new school so its been a busy transition for me. **

**Once again, I'd like to give a big shout out to xXNorwegianAssassinXx for editing my writing.**

**Please let me know what you think with a review. And of course, follow or fav if you want to see more.**

**-rjcolo**


	9. Chapter IX: Finding a Cure

**Thanks to xXNorwegianAssassinXx for editing this for me. Your help makes the story so much better.**

**Have fun.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen or AC.**

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Chapter IX: Finding a Cure

"I'm sorry to tell you this, but it seems I have no idea what's wrong with her," Doctor Kraus told Patrick and Vinjar. He was a smaller man with wild, greying blond hair and beard that made his head seem too comically large for the rest of his body. He wore a simple black and white outfit.

He was the fourth doctor they contacted in regards to Astrid's sickness and the first from outside Arendelle. Patrick had to use his Assassin resources to contact the German doctor and had to forfeit a hefty amount of coin in the process. Alas, it was to no avail and Patrick was losing money and patience.

"There's nothing you can do?" Vinjar asked with a mix of irritation and despair. Although Patrick's attempts had raised the boy's hopes, each doctor's report pained his heart even more.

"Unfortunately, no," Dr. Kraus explained, "I would suggest you continue to keep her as warm as possible and, if you can, try to have as little contact with her as possible." Vinjar's face twisted and reddened in anger.

"How can you tell me to not be with my dying sister?" he shouted, bringing silence to the entire tavern. Every patron stared at Vinjar, who glared at the cowering kraut. Patrick put a hand on his shoulder, a method he discovered to calm Vinjar from his hostile disposition. After a moment, both men returned to blank expressions and the tavern continued its routine.

"I am only asking this of you because I don't know if her condition is contagious," Kraus quivered, "I'd rather you all be safe than sorry." This time it was Patrick's turn to talk.

"Thank you for your input, doc," he said. "Is there anyone else you could refer us to?"

"There is, but I suspect they would have the same answer," Kraus answered solemnly. "Astrid's illness is one I have never seen the likes of before, but it does make me wonder if it has something to do with that queen of yours." At the mention of Queen Elsa, Vinjar became ill tempered again. He took long, loud, deep breaths to still the boiling blood in his veins. With every unsuccessful attempt by a doctor, he got more and more furious and unfaithful to his ruler, cursing and blaming her for his current predicament.

"And what makes you think that is so, doctor?" Patrick hesitatingly asked, hoping Vinjar wouldn't cause another scene.

"Well, she is unbelievably cold," the doctor began, "and she seems to be a shell with no life or personality to speak of. And if I remember you telling me, Mr. Irenson, her features were drastically changed. I have never seen anyone so young with white hair, and her eyes give me goose pimples every time I look into them. Queen Elsa's magic is the only explanation I can give you, despite the lack of medical or scientific merit behind it."

"Thank you for your time again, doc," Patrick replied. "Will you need help back to the docks?"

"No, I can find myself back," Doctor Kraus stood and grabbed his medical bag. He stopped before turning towards the door and pulled out the coin purse Patrick gave him earlier. He set it back on the table before giving his reason. "As a doctor, it is my duty to cure anyone who is sick. Unfortunately, I could not do so and therefore, I have to return your payment." Kraus held up a hand before Patrick could retort. He gave Vinjar a look of pity and said, "I'm sorry I couldn't be of any help, Mr. Irenson. I do hope you find a cure for your sister. No child should have to endure what she is right now. You're both strong individuals for lasting this long, which is more than I can say for myself." With that, Doctor Kraus left _The Snowman's Cot_, leaving Patrick and Vinjar speechless. Vinjar bowed his head in defeat and Patrick released a heavy sigh.

A few moments later Vinjar began clenching his fists on the table and taking short breathes to stop himself from crying. Patrick saw Elizabeth approach Vinjar and began to comfort the boy. Through the whole ordeal, Elizabeth had become Vinjar's solace and the two had become fast friends after being taken in by Erik and Mary. Vinjar began working in order to keep a room at the inn, much to Erik's pleasure. He had worked hard in the past week and Patrick had begun to warm up to the boy. He may be hot tempered, but Patrick was the same way at the boy's age – and still can be from time to time.

Without any comforting words to say, Patrick patted Vinjar's shoulder and dragged his feet to the bar. The woes of the Irenson's had taken a heavy toll on Patrick and brought back memories he had worked so hard and long to repress from his mind. He sat on a stool and his mind began to drift back to his days of homelessness.

* * *

The long cold winters in Boston were a struggle for many people, but it seemed no one had it worse than he. Patrick thought back to that long, dreary night. It was peaceful with a steady snowfall that was almost beautiful. But he could care less as he cried in pain and agony at the loss of the only family he had left, cold in his arms. She looked peaceful, frozen in sleep as the snowflakes settled on her delicate skin. He sat in the snow-covered streets, begging God to take him with her as well, not caring if he was buried alive that night.

* * *

And just like that, he was back in Arendelle, in _The Snowman's Cot_, staring into the worried face of Princess Anna. Patrick blinked hard before coming to his senses again.

"Can you hear me Patrick?"

"Anna?" he dully responded.

"Are you okay?" Anna asked, still preoccupied with her friend's condition.

"Yeah," Patrick answered distantly, "Just…lost in thought is all."

"Is everything alright?"

"I've seen better days to be honest," Patrick mumbled as he waved towards Erik for a drink.

"What do you mean?" Patrick looked back at Anna and saw genuine concern in her eyes. It was enough to tempt Patrick to tell her, but after her encounter with Vinjar, he thought it unwise. Vinjar was just getting angrier with Queen Elsa and getting Anna involved would just throw more logs into his angry fire. Patrick unconsciously looked at the still upset Vinjar with Elizabeth.

"Is that the thief from the week before?" Anna suddenly asked. Her face turned to one of disgust at him. Patrick couldn't blame her, but still became upset with her naivety. She didn't know what the boy was going through and why he was so bitter towards her and her sister.

"Yes," Patrick curtly answered.

"Is he – crying?" Anna asked with surprise.

"Mmhm," he answered with a mug of ale on his lips. Anna looked back at him with concern again. Without a response or another question, Anna approached Vinjar. Patrick jumped from his stool to stop her, but he was too late. He arrived in time to hear Vinjar's greeting to the princess.

"What do _you_ want?" he rudely asked under a snivel and glossy eyes.

"I…" Anna began, a little taken aback at Vinjar's harsh response to her presence. "I was just wondering why you're upset."

"Why would you care?" Vinjar replied with even more venom in his voice.

"Because she just cares, Vinjar, that's why!" Elizabeth butted in. She had a look of anger on her face. "She may be a princess, but that doesn't make her any different from me or anyone else in this damn world. So why don't you swallow your bloated pride and just talk to her?"

"Her sister…"

"Her sister isn't here right now. And even if she were, it doesn't give you the right to be angry with her. We don't know whether or not Astrid's sickness is her fault."

"But the doctors say…"

"To hell with the doctors! They obviously weren't any help, and your princess is actually showing concern for you. But you're so blinded by anger to realize that and your incessant complaining about the queen is ridiculous! Maybe they can help, or maybe not, but it doesn't hurt if you accept it from them."

Everyone was speechless at the end of Elizabeth's rant. The girl that had been comforting Vinjar during his struggles was suddenly livid with him. After another moment of silence, Elizabeth stormed out of the tavern to the back where she could hide from the world. Vinjar stared blankly at where she was, thinking over the words she said. He turned to Anna with the same blank expression. He looked at his lap and fiddle with his hands, looking for words to say. He mumbled something too low for anyone to hear.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you," Anna replied.

"I'm sorry," Vinjar softly spoke, still refusing to look at the princess. Anna placed a hand on his shoulder, to which Vinjar's head shot up to look at her teal eyes and small smile.

"Apology accepted," she said. Patrick smiled at the exchange and then took the seat that was previously occupied by Elizabeth. Anna pulled up a chair next to Vinjar as well. "So, are you going to answer my question from earlier?" Vinjar hesitated a moment before taking a deep breath.

"It's my sister," he started, "she's been really sick for over a year. Patrick has paid for four doctors and none of them have figured out what is exactly wrong with her."

"When did it start?" Anna asked, but a look of knowing was on her face.

"When your sister froze the kingdom," Vinjar replied and braced for whatever the princess was going to reply with. Anna's face took on a grave expression and Patrick could see she was very upset at this news.

"Can I see your sister?" she then asked. Vinjar stood quickly without a word and took her hand up the stairs to the room he and Astrid shared. Patrick followed to be sure nothing went wrong.

The room was pretty much the same as Patrick's, with an armoire, a bed, and a large window overlooking the fjord. Upon the bed was Astrid, bundled in her cocoon of blankets, shivering. She stirred when Vinjar approached her.

"V-V-Vin-n-nie?" she stammered through chattering teeth.

"Hey sis," Vinjar greeted, "How are you feeling?"

"Sleepy," the cold girl said. "And cold."

"That's to be expected," he replied.

"Can I go back to sleep, Vinnie?" she asked, her eyelids drooping.

"It'd probably be for the best," he answered. But it seemed Vinjar's permission was unnecessary, for Astrid fell to deep, cold sleep as quick as she had woken. Patrick glanced at Anna, her face mixed with horror and curiosity.

"Do you see what we have to deal with now?" Vinjar asked, tearing the princess from her trance.

"Have you taken her to a doctor?" Anna responded.

"Four, as a matter of fact," Vinjar retorted rudely.

"And they have no answer for you?" she replied, ignoring Vinjar's spite.

"They were just as confused as we are."

"I think I know where to go," Anna then proclaimed.

"Where might that be?" Patrick incredulously asked. If it was to Queen Elsa, Vinjar would surely throw a fit.

"The Valley of Living Rock might give us some answers."

* * *

**So what did you guys think? Will Patrick be meeting the trolls? And how will he and Vinjar react?**

**If you want to find out, please follow or even favorite the story and leave a review if you feel compelled to do so.**

**-rjcolo**


	10. Chapter X: The Power of Magic

**Holy goldfish, Batman! 10 chapters?**

**Thanks, again, to xXNorwegianAssassinXx for editing my work.**

**Disclaimer: Egads, Batman! Rjcolo still doesn't own Assassin's Creed or Frozen!**

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After Patrick finally convinced Vinjar to trust Anna, the princess led them to the castle and brought out three horses from the stables. Vinjar clumsily attempted to climb on to one with Astrid in his arms. Patrick had to take Astrid from his arms so he could saddle up awkwardly by himself. Patrick followed suit on another horse as Princess Anna mounted hers. While the princess and assassin grew up learning how to ride, Vinjar had no such experience, so Patrick had to carry Astrid for the struggling boy until they reached their destination.

Princess Anna led them to this "Valley of the Living Rock." They departed as the sun was reaching its lowest point on the horizon, which, according to the princess, was perfect timing. Patrick personally found it odd they would have to go at night, but he didn't question the blue blood. They rode through the forest for quite awhile before the landscape began changing. The horses' shoes started to clop on stone and trees were traded for large boulders.

As the group of travelers approached the stony valley, Patrick could feel that they weren't alone. He changed to his "Eagle Vision" to observe the area around him. He immediately noticed the entirety of small boulders before him were glowing blue, signifying something was different about them. He was a little put off by this and prepared himself with whatever was to come.

His sixth sense dulled his hearing, but he could see Princess Anna had dismounted and began talking to what seemed to be the rocks. He reverted back to his normal vision and noticed her actually greeting and addressing the motionless, moss covered stones and boulders, with names and questions. He looked on with Vinjar in utterly confused horror. Patrick realized the princess was of a different stock, but this was just insane. They dismounted and warily approached the princess, still shocked by her actions.

"Vinjar," Patrick whispered to his younger companion whilst handing the girl to him.

"Yeah?"

"Take your sister, and head back to Arendelle as fast as you can. Go to the castle and tell the queen that her sister has gone compl–." Patrick never got to finish as a rolling boulder tripped him from behind. Vinjar couldn't help but laugh. The two males looked up to find hundreds of rocks rolling to the center of the clearing surrounding the princess. The rocks all abruptly halted before Anna and suddenly sprouted; Arms, legs, and heads grew out of nowhere. Their "robes" were made of moss and lichen, their hair seemed like dry, stalky grass and every one of them was adorned with shining crystals of red, blue, yellow, and every other color one could imagine. They all cheered at the princess's presence.

"Anna's here!" the creatures shouted in merry unison. They began firing questions at her about the kingdom, her sister, and Kristoff, her lover. She giggled and attempted to answer as many questions as possible.

"Trolls," Vinjar muttered. Patrick stared at him with doubt.

"What did you say?"

"They're trolls," Vinjar answered distantly, "the ones in the stories my mother used to tell us. She said they use magic to lure children lost in the forest and eat them."

"They don't look too dangerous to me," Patrick joked, hoping to ease the tension. Just then, Anna looked up to find Vinjar and Patrick dumbfounded by the trolls before them. Both remained motionless until the creatures became silent and shifted their attention towards the two strangers. Their sudden gazes made the duo jump back in caution, with Patrick arming his hidden blades. The trolls all marveled at this sight, letting out a unified, "Oooooooo," while their big, round eyes grew wide at the shining weapons. Anna herself seemed surprised but more cautious than curious of Patrick's weapons.

"And who might these two be?" one finally asked.

"These are my new friends, Patrick and Vinjar," Anna answered, trying her best not to laugh at the scene before her.

"Y-Yes. I'm Vinjar," Vinjar spluttered. "This is Patrick," he gestured to Patrick.

"Who's that in your arms?" another troll asked, sounding curious. Vinjar's face quickly became somber.

"This is my sister, Astrid. She's very sick and Princess Anna brought me here claiming that I could seek help. I'm not much of a believer in magic or fairytales, but I'm desperate at this point. I just want my sister back." With his despairing plea, a slightly larger boulder rolled to Vinjar's feet and sprung to life. This one's lichen robes and grassy hair were longer than the other trolls and was adorned with more crystals, shining yellow beneath the mossy cape.

"I believe I can help," the troll said in a raspy, older voice. "Call me Pabbie. Please young man, bring your sister forth." As Vinjar knelt before Pabbie, the troll shaman's expression turned into one of great fear and concern. "She's ice cold," he observed, "How long has she been like this?"

"For about a year now," Vinjar answered, taking note of Pabbie's expression.

"So, since Queen Elsa's magical outburst?" Pabbie asked, more to himself than the teenager. "It's strange that she's been able to stay alive for so long. Describe to me the time you first discovered this."

Vinjar took a deep breath, trying to stay composed in the retelling of his sister's ailment. "It all started when the eternal winter began. The snow started falling and she desperately wanted to go play. She joined some friends but then something went wrong. We became worried when her friends rushed to us and said something happened to her. I found Astrid in the snow, shivering next to some rocks in the forest. Her hair turned white, and her eyes turned blue. I rushed her to the hearth back home. My mother and I thought she would be fine soon after, but she was still cold and pale. She would always complain how cold she was. My mother couldn't afford a doctor to see Astrid, but she soon fell ill herself. I've been caring for Astrid since my mother died. She keeps getting colder and colder with each day. I'm just as surprised as you that she's held out this long. to be honest."

"Well, she is strong in spirit, and you have much love for her," Pabbie replied, giving Vinjar an encouraging smile. Vinjar only gave half-smile in return. Pabbie then placed his hand on Astrid's head and spoke some magical words. After a few moments of heavy silence in the valley, Pabbie slowly opened his old eyes and looked into Vinjar's.

"It seems your sister's condition is directly related to the queen's magic. I suggest you go to her majesty and see what she can do."

"So you think Elsa's magic somehow got inside Astrid?" Anna piped up.

"Yes," Pabbie answered, "She wasn't directly struck by the magic like you were, your highness. True love is not needed to thaw her, but some magic must still be involved."

"So let's go right now!" Vinjar stood up quickly, looking at Anna with determination. Anna looked back at Vinjar. Patrick's eyes darted back and forth between his two companions, analyzing the situation. The wellbeing of the people was as much a part of Princess Anna's job as it was Queen Elsa's. Anna eventually sighed and gave in to the boy's demand. "Very well."

Vinjar rushed back and mounted his horse with the help of Patrick, still tightly cradling his sister. Patrick, who had been silent for the whole affair, suddenly felt a tug on his pant leg. He looked down to see the shaman troll trying to get his attention.

"What can I do for you?" Patrick hesitantly asked, not sure how to properly address the…thing.

"Are you the boy's father?" the troll asked with slight irritation in his voice.

"Oh, no! I just met these two a week ago," Patrick quickly answered.

"Mph. Well, take good care of them both. They're good-hearted children. You on the other hand," Pabbie paused, but then looked up into Patrick eyes, narrowing his. "There's something about you that I can't seem to put my finger on."

"What do you mean?" Patrick asked with more caution than curiosity.

"Some kind of strange aura you possess. You are very human, and yet not at the same time." Patrick became perturbed by the shaman's analysis. _Does it have something to do with my Eagle Vision_? he wondered. It was something he had his entire life. He read about multiple assassins – including greats like Ezio Auditore – possessing the same trait and he even met another person who shared this sort of sixth sense: Connor.

"Is it a cause for concern?" Patrick asked after pondering the old troll's observation.

"As of right now, I'd say not. It's more of a curiosity for me than anything else," he replied with a chuckle. Patrick smiled back uncomfortably and mounted his horse. The trio thanked the rocky creatures for their help and rode fast, back to Arendelle to see if Elsa could do something about the ailing Astrid.

* * *

It was starting to get late when Anna bombarded into her sister's study. The sudden crash of the doors jolted Elsa from her work and half-sleepiness. She turned quickly, annoyed by Anna's rude entrance.

"Can I help you, Anna?" Elsa asked calmly, keeping her irritated expression.

"Someone needs your help, Elsa!" Anna exclaimed, unaffected by her sister's glare. Anna's look of hasty concern let Elsa know something was indeed terribly wrong. Without even asking, she rushed out of her study, following Anna through the castle. They entered the library, where a roaring fire had been made despite the warm evening, and two men stood beside it. One had his back turned, with neatly kept hair and a fine outfit of a white shirt with a black vest. His waist was adorned with a sword and pistol similar to the one Carter carried. Elsa almost mistook the man for Carter, but she realized he was shorter than the southerner.

The other across from dapper fellow was a young man with a small girl wrapped in blankets on his lap, peacefully asleep. Both men turned at the sisters' entrance. Elsa glanced at Patrick, who slightly nodded in greeting, a solemn look on his face. She looked to other man with the girl in his arms. He was taller than Patrick, but lankier and younger. His brown mane was very shaggy and unkempt, his clothes looking much more raggedy than everyone else in the room, with patches of whiskers growing on his face. She looked into his golden eyes, glowing in the firelight.

"What seems to be the issue?" Elsa asked with sincere worry towards the boy. He shook out of an apparent trance and approached his queen.

"Your majesty," he began, "I am Vinjar Irenson and this is my sister, Astrid. We have been homeless and penniless for a year since our mother died. My sister has been very sick and gets worse everyday. Your sister here brought us to the trolls of the Valley of Living Rock. Their shaman advised us to come to you to cure my sister from her ailment."

Elsa stared in shock at the bundled girl. _Have my powers caused this?_ she thought, growing more upset with each passing moment. She thought she had finally reined in control of her powers. She thought she was finally free from causing any more pain. But what could she do? She had no idea how to fix something like this, and the last time someone froze from the inside, it took a sacrifice of life in order to undo her magic.

She impulsively placed a hand on Astrid's face. What happened next surprised everyone in the room. Elsa's hand began involuntarily glowing along with Astrid herself. A bright flash shined from the girl and there was a short moment of blindness for Elsa.

* * *

She awoke to her face on the rug of the library, her vision blurry as her sister knelt beside her, frantically calling her name.

"Elsa! Elsa! Are you alright?!" Elsa blinked her eyesight back and slowly sat up. She noticed the two men in the room were not staring at her, but at the floor before her. Elsa followed their gaze to find the same girl as before, but with bright, golden hair in place of the snowy white. She was motionless on the floor, and nobody seemed to know what to do. Slowly, the boy knelt down to the girl and gently rested his hand on a cheek. His face lit up brighter than the fire.

"She's starting to warm up!" he exclaimed with joy.

"Are you serious?" Patrick muttered, seeming dumbfounded by what just happened.

"What happened?" Elsa asked.

"Well when you touched Astrid," Anna began, "You two started glowing like a blinding light. Next thing we know, we see the both of you passed out on the floor."  
"How long was I unconscious?"

"Only for a minute or two." Elsa smiled at her sister, and then directed her gaze back to the girl on the floor. She started to become concerned. She was getting warm, but she was still asleep.

"Is she going to be alright?" Elsa asked. All of a sudden, a tiny yawn erupted from the girl in answer to Elsa's question. She slowly sat up and rubbed her eyes. They were the same yellow Vinjar's eyes possessed. She looked up at her brother.

"Vinnie?" she asked in a dazed and tired tone.

"Astrid!" Vinjar cried and wrapped her in a tight hug. He then rose and held her up whilst spinning in a circle. Astrid giggled and squealed with absolute joy. After a few spins, Vinjar embraced Astrid again, and Astrid returned the favor.

"I'm so happy you're better, Astrid," he whimpered through a watery voice.

"Me too, Vinnie!" she excitedly agreed. The insurmountable happiness the girl had absolutely melted Elsa's heart, whose eyes began to water as well. When Vinjar finally released his sister, he looked at Elsa.

"You see this woman here?" he croaked. Astrid looked at Elsa now and nodded, fascinated by the beautiful lady sprawled before her.

"She cured you." A wide smile and a hearty giggle rose from Astrid as she rushed over to Elsa and gave the queen a tight hug around the neck. Elsa was taken aback at first but quickly returned the embrace.

"Thank you," Astrid said, melting Elsa all the more. She looked at Vinjar, who was smiling brightly at the scene. She shifted her gaze to Anna, who was fighting with all her might the need to let out an "aw" at the picture before her. Elsa then looked over to the standing Patrick who gave her a smirk and a wink. She couldn't help but blush and smile sheepishly at his gesture. Astrid finally released Elsa from her grasp and went on to thank everyone else in the room.

"I guess we should be heading home, then?" Patrick said after Astrid finished expressing her never faltering gratitude.

"Wait," Elsa called to her departing guests, "Vinjar, Astrid, where will you two go?"

"They have a deal worked out with Erik at _The Snowman's Cot_," Patrick spoke for them, placing a comforting hand on Vinjar's shoulder. Elsa's face changed to a look at relief. _Erik's kindness never seems to run out_, she thought, still looking at Patrick though. It was odd that she felt elated to see him again, even under a dire circumstance this time around. _I just might have to visit the town more often,_ she then thought, still looking at Patrick, a smile beginning to grow on her face at the thought of spending a whole day with him.

"Well, we should be going," Vinjar interrupted the flirtatious gazing between the queen and Patrick, "it is past Astrid's bedtime you know."

"I'm not tired, though!" Astrid protested.

"That'll change quickly, and you know it," Vinjar retorted, tickling his sister. Her giggle delighted Elsa and Anna couldn't help but chuckle as well. With that, the younger pair of siblings exited the library with Patrick following close behind. The royal sisters joined them as escorts to the gates. As they walked, Anna, Vinjar and Astrid seemed to move farther ahead, giving Patrick and Elsa some privacy. Both noticed exactly what they (more like Anna) were doing and blushed, looking away from each other. After an uncomfortable silence, Patrick finally spoke up.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," Elsa meekly replied.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but have you had to do this before?"

"No, actually. I'm just as confused and surprised as you are about what happened."

"Interesting," Patrick answered. His face became pensive, seeming like he was trying to peace together an answer to his question. "You don't feel any different?" Elsa had to think on it for a moment. After she recovered from her faint, she didn't really feel off or strange.

"Not at all," Elsa said.

"Hmph," was all Patrick said. His lips thinned, still pondering on the recent events. "Can I ask you a completely unrelated question?"

"An abrupt change in subject, but go ahead," she quipped. Patrick brushed it off with a goofy grin.

"I was wondering if I could have access to your library."

"And why would you need my library?"

"Well, it'll have records of your kingdom and your surrounding lands. I'd like to learn about the history and mythology of the general area."

"I thought you are a merchant, Patrick?" Elsa asked, growing suspicious of the American's request.

"I am," Patrick quickly replied, "but I'm also interested in ancient artifacts and I think your library may have the knowledge I'm looking for. A collector of sorts, if you will."

"Very well then," Elsa answered after pondering a moment again. "Only if I get to join you," she impulsively blurted. Patrick looked over in surprise and a playful smirk grew on his face.

"I could use the company," he replied then gave Elsa a wink that sent her heart into uncontrollable flutters.

They shortly arrived to the castle gates, where Elsa gave Patrick a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Let me know when you want to see the library, Mr. O'Hare," she whispered in a husky voice.

Vinjar raised his eyebrow and smirked with playful curiosity. Astrid giggled at the blossoming romance before her. Anna smiled and started bopping up and down on the balls of her feet, barley containing her excitement. Elsa looked up at Patrick, both faces redder than Anna's hair, while he tried to avoid Elsa's gaze.

"Well, then," he said after regaining his composure, "farewell ladies and thank you for all of your service." The odd trio walked off across the stone bridge before the gates. Elsa smiled back, never taking her eyes off of Patrick. She felt a nudge and looked at her sister.

"Who knew you fancied Americans, huh?" the redhead quipped. All Elsa could muster was a pouty sneer in response.

On the bridge, Patrick walked slightly ahead of the children to conceal his still red face. He was full of so many emotions. When she kissed him for the second time, the shocking sensation from before was only magnified, especially at how close her lips were to his. But he was also a little more excited than delirious, and strode with a pride he hadn't felt in years.

"So, what's going on between you and the queen?" Vinjar asked impishly.

"Nothing you should worry about, Vinnie." Patrick looked back and noticed Vinjar's face went red with embarrassment, and his sister was pointing and laughing. The three headed back to _The Snowman's Cot_, both men throwing verbal jabs at each other the whole trip, Astrid giggling at each quip.

* * *

A dark figure watched from one of the castle's towers. His eyes were fixed upon the assassin who escorted the two children from the castle. The sight of his sworn enemies actually leaving the castle in a casual fashion worried him. They had to act fast in order to get the Queen of Arendelle to sway in the order's favor. He quickly turned to inform his master of the situation and set a plan in motion.

* * *

**Ten down, an unforeseen number of chapters to go.**

**So, per usual just R.R.F.F. (rate, review, fav, follow) or whatever if you liked it. If you didn't like it and want to let me know, be mature, composed, and constructive in your criticism, per favore.**

**Toodles!**

**-rjcolo**


	11. Chapter XI: Help Has Arrived

**Chapter 11's here! I remember someone asking if there were going to be more assassins. Well, here's your answer. ;)**

**Disclaimer: Although I own my OCs, AC and Disney belong to other people with A LOT more money than I have.**

* * *

It had been a two months since Patrick's landing in Arendelle. Within that time, he had received multiple letters from people who had heard of his brotherhood and his skills. He was asked to take on a wide variety of tasks, from spying on merchants to simple escort missions and he had done these on an almost daily basis. He had yet been asked to kill, but he knew murder would be a necessary evil soon enough. It was good that he earned coin for services rendered, but the Templars seemed to be all too quiet for his liking. The only one he knew of was Carter Bingham, who seemed to be just as new in town as Patrick.

When he wasn't doing his odd jobs, Patrick came to the royal library to research. He found plenty of record books recalling the most minute of details of every ruler up to Elsa. He read through novels retelling the tales of the Old Norse gods. So far though, there was nothing that seemed to relate to the First Civilization.

Whilst Patrick would be studying, he would receive visits from a few patrons of the castle and even Queen Elsa herself would come around to aid his research. The only problem was talks of King Hallvor and Thor the thunder god would turn into conversations about anything else. Although the queen was shy at first, she eventually warmed up to him and the two had become quick friends. Their conversations wouldn't last for too long though, for Elsa was dutiful as both a queen and a sister. The more Patrick thought of Elsa, the more excited he would get at every research session with her. When she wasn't with him, he would anxiously wait for her arrival, trying desperately to be distracted by the books he found.

While he was bidding his time and doing research, Patrick began thinking of ways to convince Vinjar to join the ranks of the Assassins. He had grown close to the lad, and had learned very much about the boy. He, much like Elizabeth, wanted a life outside of the small kingdom of Arendelle. He wanted to see the world, especially the United States, a place where your birth didn't dictate your status in society. He also wanted to be a better man and forget about his past as a thief and a scoundrel. Patrick smiled at the prospect of introducing the boy to live and fight for a noble cause. Plus, having a local in his ranks would prove immensely helpful in learning about Arendelle in general.

He also noticed Vinjar had become much more friendly with Elizabeth, to Erik's dismay. Vinjar would flirt, but Elizabeth played hard to get which only further encouraged the boy's advances. Astrid was as adorable as could be and would help out in any way she could with both the Arneson's business and Patrick's work. By helping Patrick, she simply brought letters that were addressed to him, surprisingly never asking any questions of their contents.

The cozy family still didn't know Patrick's true affiliation and he planned to keep it that way. He didn't need or want these decent people to be involved in such a bloody and convoluted affair. It was difficult explaining his comings and goings though, and frequent run-ins with Princess Anna didn't help much either. Sometimes, Olaf, Kristoff, and the ice harvester's pet reindeer, Sven, would accompany her; at others, she would be completely by herself.

Now, he was in the tavern, wasting time away while lost in his thoughts, nursing a beer at noon. He had no requests, no jobs, and the Arnesons refused to ask for his aid. He probably would've put Vinjar to those tasks anyway. Although Patrick had grown soft toward the boy, the lad still needed to be whipped into good shape. A light tap on his forearm pulled him out of his thoughts and he looked down to see Astrid had another letter for him.

"Thank you, Astrid," he smiled and ruffled the girl's hair. She smiled back.

"What's the weird shape?" she asked. Patrick looked at her in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

"On the back. There's a funny looking triangle on it." She flipped the envelope for him. Sure enough, the wax seal brandished a pointed triangle-like shape that was rounded at the bottom. The base was flared out in intricate flows and patterns. His brow furrowed and a pensive expression found itself upon his face at the sight of the Assassin symbol.

"Is it bad?" Astrid asked with worry.

"No," Patrick quickly changed his expression to comfort the young girl. "I just haven't received a letter like this in a long time."

"Okay," Astrid said and scurried off to see if Mary or Elizabeth needed help. Patrick took this chance to rush upstairs. Once he felt he had enough privacy, he carefully broke the wax seal and pulled the letter from the envelope.

_Dear Mr. O'Hare,_

_ Salutations to you, my brother. The brotherhood has heard of your arrival in Arendelle, but has yet to hear from you on your current progress. As such, they have decided to send two representatives to aid you in putting a foothold in Arendelle. I am one of these representatives. My colleague joining me is a spectacular recruiter and will be more than willing to assist you in teaching the novices not only in our philosophies, but also in our craft. I shall help in any way I can in this particular field as well._

_ I hope to help in establishing a foothold in the politics of Arendelle, as I have been asked to come as a foreign ambassador for the British crown. It seems rumors of the queen's powers have reached the ears of politicians, monarchs, and aristocrats alike around the world. It will be our duty to see that she is not to be used by these men for tyrannical purposes and that she does not fall under the spell of her own powers, both political and otherwise._

_ We will hope to arrive in Arendelle within the next week and we will get started on business right away. If you can help by working on either of the issues discussed in this letter, it will make our jobs that much easier._

_ Do not disappoint, Mr. O'Hare. The Mentor seems very set on influencing Arendelle, for there are sources that have led us to believe there are First Civilization sights and artifacts hidden somewhere within the lands. If we can keep away Templar forces, it should make our search for these ruins much easier._

_Sincerely,_

_John Harrington_

Patrick read the letter over and over again, still trying to decide whether to be relieved or frustrated. He was grateful to have help be sent, but he also noticed this John Harrington fellow did not seem all too pleased about this assignment. Then again, neither was Patrick when he was told to come here. The man still did seem arrogant and condescending though, not to mention he was British: a common enemy of both America and Ireland. Patrick became all the more annoyed at this discovery of his new "colleagues." He just hoped they wouldn't be too difficult. He began to wonder what they'd look like. As if God had heard his inquiries, a knock came from his door.

"Enter," he said, turning around to see Elizabeth.

"Hi, Patrick," she greeted shyly, "There's someone who wishes to see you." Patrick quirked one of his eyebrows. _Was it another client?_ he asked himself. They usually contacted him by letter to ask for an audience. He slowly got out of his chair and walked with Elizabeth to the tavern. He descended the stairs and looked for anyone who might be possibly looking for him. He let Elizabeth lead him to a table where a young woman sat, staring out the window, her chin resting on her hand.

She was short and petite with auburn hair cut so short it barely passed her ears. She wore a white shirt under a leather corset and brown trousers with knee-high boots. Around her waist was a leather belt carrying a rapier, some throwing knives, and pouches. The buckle of her belt was shaped like the wax insignia of Patrick's letter. She also adorned a white, hooded mantle. To the unaware populace, her attire was quite odd for a woman to wear and some would've mistaken her for a boy from a distance. Patrick, however, knew exactly what her outfit's symbolic purpose was.

After Elizabeth returned to her duties, Patrick was left standing awkwardly in front of the unaware woman before him. Patrick loudly cleared his throat to get her attention. She looked at him with light, brownish green eyes.

"You must be Patrick," she said with a wide grin, shooting up from her seat and extending her hand.

"Indeed I am," he took her hand, "I assume you're John's colleague?"

"Indeed. His sister in fact. Charlotte Harrington, at your service."

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Charlotte. So the order is actually concerned of my progress it seems?" Patrick asked.

"Indeed. Probably more than any of us want to admit," Charlotte piqued. "If you would remember from John's letter, they claimed there were rumors of precursor artifacts and ruins around here. I will say these rumors are very loose and more than likely an excuse to get us…in bed with the queen, so to speak." At the last comment, Patrick reddened to the point of it being impossible to conceal. She took notice, and audibly gasped.

"You didn't?" she asked with excited curiosity.

"No!" Patrick quickly defended, "I've merely spent time with her. I haven't courted her, much less slept with her, in the slightest. But I'll have you know she is quite the lovely woman."

"So I've heard," she replied, an impish tone rising in her voice, a playful smirk forming on her lips. "But you've met the queen?"

"Yes, I have, along with her sister and a few others associated with the royal family."

"Well it seems you are doing your job quite well already, Patrick. How close would you say you are with her?" Patrick considered the question for a moment. They had started to become closer every time he visited the library and he had noticed her slight advances towards him. His heart and body desperately wanted her, but his mind kept reminding him how terrible of a scandal it would be if he and the queen took things to the next level. The thought of it excited and scared him at the same time and he wasn't sure of what he was going to do about it.

"We have spoken to each other often when I visit the royal library to do research," he said. A satisfied smile came across the young woman's face at this new information.

"So you have gotten to know her quite well then? Perfect! That should make John's part of this much easier."

"What exactly is his part anyway?" Patrick asked with curiosity replacing his caution.

"As you know, he is an ambassador for parliament to the queen. If he proves successful in allying Arendelle with the British Empire, he might have a permanent residence here. Having eyes and ears in the politics of the kingdom will prove very useful for us."

"He doesn't seem all too excited to be here, though," Patrick countered.

"Although the air here is much…fresher than home, it is nowhere near as sophisticated for him." She huffed and looked out the window. Her expression became one of total surprise. Her mouth fell completely agape and her eyes almost burst from their sockets.

"Charlotte?" Patrick asked with concern. He followed her gaze and outside the window was Olaf approaching the inn with Anna in tow. The animated snowman burst through the door.

"Hi Erik!" Charlotte continued to be fixated on the living snowman that just entered the inn. Feeling like he was being watched, Olaf turned to see Patrick as Charlotte stared in dumbfounded disbelief. He smiled and wobbled over to Patrick's new companion.

"Hi, I'm Olaf and I like warm hugs!" he greeted, opening his stick-arms wide in invitation. The girl kept staring at him, lost for words. Patrick chuckled at his colleague's state of shock.

"Hello, Olaf," Patrick began, "This is a colleague of mine from London. Charlotte Harrington, this is Olaf."

"Hi!" he repeated, but confused worry came to his face, "Does she know how to talk?"

Patrick laughed, "She does. She's just not used to snowmen walking and talking about." Olaf gave a sheepish smile and giggle. His face then lit up and he dragged Anna to the table.

"This is Princess Anna of Arendelle, my aunt!"

"Your aunt?" Charlotte asked incredulously, the first thing she said since she saw Olaf.

"Well, Elsa created me, therefore making her my mom, which therefore makes Anna my aunt, right?" Olaf looked at Patrick, who gave a nod to answer the question. The Englander looked suddenly stunned at the logic the snowman presented them.

"So, the queen created you?" Charlotte slowly asked.

"Yeah," the snowman slowly replied.

"With what?"

"Her powers," Olaf said even slower, unintentionally sounding condescending. This revelation shocked Patrick's new colleague even further and he just looked on, a satisfied smile on his face. He looked up to see Anna quite entertained at the scene as well. His wink at her made the princess giggle in knowing playfulness. Elizabeth came by with a cup of tea for the newcomer, who seemed to not notice her at all. She still just kept staring at Olaf, trying to process the living snowman before her.

"Are you sure she's okay, Patrick?" he asked worriedly.

"Sure as rain," Patrick replied happily. "But alas, we have some business to attend to, so if the both of you would excuse us, please." Waving, Anna and Olaf left to converse with Erik at the bar. Charlotte held her gaze at the snowman. When she finally seemed to break out of her trance, she was tiredly overwhelmed.

"So the stories are true then?" she mumbled, staring at the table.

"They are indeed," Patrick confirmed, staring at the speechless girl.

"_Are_ you to be alright, Charlotte?" Patrick asked, growing concerned for his colleague. Charlotte looked at him with an offended expression.

"I just saw a living snowman, and you ask if I'm alright?" she said in a flustered tone.

"Calm down," Patrick replied, grabbing her hand for comfort. "I was just as bewildered as you were. And if I were you, I'd get used to it."

"Okay," she said, then took a few deep breaths to relax her nerves.

"I do believe you're here for reasons that don't include staring at a snowman all day?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, of course," she stammered. "Our sources within the Templars have told us they are indeed in Arendelle as well. Have you had the chance of running into one?"

"Indeed, I have," Patrick scowled. "A cotton plantation owner by the name of Carter Bingham. I assume his cover up is to help establish trade with Arendelle, but we know he's here for other reasons."

"And what of any partners or colleagues?"

"None yet. I've seen Bingham in the market from time to time, mostly dealing in what I assume to be his cotton business. Princess Anna has revealed to me though that she is not too fond of the man, though. Something about him reminds her of that prince that nearly killed her and her sister."

"Oh, when we heard we were being sent here, John told me what an affair that was," Charlotte chuckled. "Many from around the world heard of the now former Prince Hans. The magic aspect seemed too far-fetched, but the rest was very believable. The Southern Isles have been scrambling everywhere to reassure the other twelve boys are not as…ambitious as their youngest."

"So was he reprimanded?" Patrick asked.

"From what I heard from my brother, yes. His title was stripped and was thrown in the dungeon to be forgotten. However, it seems he escaped captivity not too long ago. There have been no sightings of him yet, and the Southern Isles have since considered him an escaped criminal."

"Well, I'm sure the queen and princess have heard about this then?"

"Most likely," Charlotte assured. "But it wouldn't hurt to ask, would it?"

"Ask whom what?" someone else said. Patrick and Charlotte turned to see Anna standing right over them.

"Oh. We were wondering if you heard about the disappearance of Hans." Charlotte cheerfully answered

"Hans?"

"Of the Southern Isles," Patrick clarified. "The one that manipulated and tried to kill you _and _your sister so he could become king?"

"I know who you're talking about," Anna chided. "And no, I guess I haven't."

"Well, it seems the now former prince has fled the Southern Isles and is in hiding. His former kingdom has branded him a fugitive."

"Oh," Anna sat and thought about the news revealed to her moments ago.

"You didn't know?" Patrick asked.

"No," Anna answered distantly, still thinking. "I don't think Elsa knows either. It's definitely something she would've mentioned to me."

"That's interesting," Charlotte observed. "You'd think the Southern Isles would tell you two, of all people, about your attempted murderer being at large."

"I think I'm going to ask Elsa about it," Anna announced. With that, she called for Olaf, said her farewells and left, still looking pensive.

"Speaking of the queen," Charlotte spoke after the princess left. "Are you attracted to her?"

"What are you talking about?" Patrick blubbered in attempt to hide his embarrassment.

"Don't play dumb with me," she started. "When I mentioned getting in bed with the queen, your face went redder than a tomato. Of course, I didn't mean literally, but I can tell you want to."

"Well, when you see her, even you will understand why."

"Whatever you say, Patrick," she stared off to her left and furrowed her brow. "Who's that boy over there?"

Patrick turned his gaze to see Vinjar at a table nearby with an untouched lunch before him. The boy desperately tried to look distracted, but Patrick could see right through him.

"His name's Vinjar. I caught the boy trying to pinch some coin from a merchant. When I brought him and his sister back here, the owners agreed to house the two of them as long as the boy worked here. He does have potential, though."

"A former thief, eh? I always had a thing for the roguish type," she quipped. Before Patrick could say anything, Charlotte bolted to Vinjar and sat next to the boy, starting a conversation. She wasn't much older than the boy, but Patrick noticed the lass could seduce like a well-seasoned harlot. After some laughs, intimate staring, and brushes of flirtatious contact, Charlotte returned with a coy smirk on her face, dark seduction clouding her eyes. She made sure to sashay back towards Patrick, who looked more concerned than confused.

"Where did you learn to do that?"

"You pick up a lot of things when your mother runs a brothel," she answered nonchalantly, picking up her cup of tea and taking another drink.

"What did your father do?" Patrick then asked hesitantly.

"He was just another customer. I told you John and I are siblings, but I wasn't completely honest. We're only half-siblings. My mother and I look very much alike, minus her wrinkles, of course."

"Two bastards under one roof, eh?"

"Yes, now let's drop that subject," Charlotte snapped, changing to a serious expression, nearly slamming her cup back onto its platter. "I told Vinjar to meet me at the harbor tonight. I have plans to take him other places from there, and I'd like for you to be in those other places."

"You're sure he'll come?"

"He'll come." Patrick raised a quizzical eyebrow, casting a look of doubt upon the young assassin. "What? He will!" she reassured, irritated with Patrick's uncertainty.

* * *

**So, what do you think of Charlotte? Don't worry, you'll meet her brother soon enough. As usual, R.R.F.F. and ask me any questions.**

**Signing off!**

**-rjcolo**


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